Out of My Mind
by So.I'll.Continue
Summary: She can absorb thoughts, memorize life stories with a touch, and witness memories like internal movies. This young girl has an incredible power, but its uncontrollable nature is destroying her mind. Losing more of herself the more she absorbs, Young Justice must unravel the dark plot hidden beneath her abilities. As the stakes rise, her life -and the League's- might depend on it.
1. Prologue

**Hello! I hope you all enjoy my story! I'm really excited to be posting this, especially since I haven't been active for a while. Better yet, I know EXACTLY how this story'll play out, so I won't run into the same development problems that I normally do *awkwardly nods to list of incomplete stories* But, in any case, I really hope you like it! Of course, any comments, reviews or critiques are very appreciated (Even just a couple words!). Thanks!**

 **FYI: Given that it is now 2019, my notes on the 2016 American Election has now been moved to my profile page.**

* * *

 **Prologue**

The voices around her were overpowering. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe as she stumbled along the sidewalk. She wanted to leave the city, flee the constant tsunami of thoughts and feelings and memories, but she couldn't survive in the wild anymore. Judging by the sorry state of her grey hoodie and jeans (neither of which she could remember buying), she must've been in the woods for the better part of a month. Her stomach ached fiercely, and she smelled worse than she looked. Not to mention it was getting colder; a few more weeks and she doubt she could withstand the dropping temperatures.

A man wearing a giant pumpkin costume shoved a flyer in her hand, shouting promotions to everyone in earshot. Their hands touched as she automatically accepted it, causing a familiar jolt of energy behind her eyes.

The man was Arthur Manting. He was 43, single, and hated his job. He wanted to work out more, increase his chances of finding a wife, but could never find the time. He shared an apartment with his older brother in the bowls of Gotham; about ten miles from were they grew up. His brother was a heroin addict and was behind on his half of the rent. His mother died last month, but it was expected and Arthur had recovered quickly. He drank too much, but never drove. He cussed too much, but never at kids.

She gasped as the information uprooted her. She knew his favorite color, his first pet, the route he took to school when he was eight. She saw his memories, his gripes, his hopes and his weaknesses. She saw everything the man knew about himself. She lived it, unwillingly, in an instant.

No one had noticed her bizarre reaction. By now Arthur had turned away, trying to push the coupons for Harry's Haunted Halloween Party Store into another pedestrian's hands, unaware he had just revealed his life story to a stranger. The girl, feeling overwhelmed and inexplicably guilty, stiffly walked over to a small alley only a few paces away. Pressing her forehead against the cold brick, she resisted the urge to vomit. She didn't know when she had last eaten, but it had not been recently, and she couldn't afford to lose any of the nutrients now.

Despite not being in direct contact, the voices continued to crash into her mind. A little girl wanted to be Wonder Woman for Halloween, but her mother thought the outfit was too mature. A homeless man around the corner remembered the mine that claimed his leg in Vietnam. A runaway teen wondered if his parents would rather have a gay son or a dead one. Some were quiet, some were loud, but all of them were nearly overpowering as they seeped into the girl's brain like butter on warm bread. From underneath the onslaught threatening to drown her, she was able to gather one important thing:

She was in Gotham. If Batman couldn't help her, no one could.

She took several deep breaths as she struggled to close her mind, to form a barricade between her own psyche and the rest of the population's. The relief was objectively miniscule, nearing irrelevance, but even so it felt like an expressed gift from God. The door that had been thrown off its hinges from her encounter with Arthur was reset, although it remained stubbornly open.

Feeling her body's meager heat continue to escape from her head, she flipped up her hood, enjoying the additional barrier. Despite the improvement, she still needed to get out of the cold; her sneakers were soaked with dew and her fingers were chilled stiff. She was tired enough to sleep where she stood, despite the fact she had been slumbering under a bush less than six hours ago, which only cast further doubt on her health.

With a determined huff, she pushed off the wall and shuffled back onto the street. She didn't have any real destination in mind (after all, Batman wasn't exactly in the Yellow Pages), but she figured she could pick up on something useful just by absorbing as she walked…if she didn't pass out before then.

The thought was almost intriguing. She didn't know what it was like in the moments before passing out (as far as she could tell, she'd never done it before), but the combination of her prolonged absorption, dizziness, fatigue and hunger were beginning to paint a pretty reasonable picture. Regardless, it wasn't something she was prepared to deal with. In fact, she was reasonably sure that if she did faint she might never wake up again.

So she plodded on, hopeful that she would find a safe haven before her body gave out. As she walked, she learned more and more about the city around her -its best and its worst- staying careful to avoid direct contact with its inhabitants.

Listening for any specific thought was beyond difficult, but as her surroundings became more and more impoverished, the mentions of Batman and Robin increased exponentially. The stories of sightings and encounters were almost singlehandedly fueling Gotham's most downtrodden citizens' gossip, and the girl was quick to tune in.

She soon realized that many of these "sighting" were lies, but distinguishing them from the truth was effortless. The true ones were always accompanied by a memory, one that blipped into her mind like a newsreel, replaying how that person was saved by the Dynamic Duo…or how they had their nose punched in, depending on the guy. The remainders, which could be lies or just second-hand stories, showed what people imagined them to be, and the difference between the constructions and reality was pretty clear.

As darkness began to settle, the girl suddenly realized the predicament she had made for herself. She was weak, starving and dehydrated. She was defenseless, alone, and in the bad side of town. And since she had spent the last four hours sampling the neighborhood's thoughts and memories, she knew exactly how bad this town was.

She wasn't prepared for this danger. Judging by her complete lack of survival instincts, she knew she had probably grown up on the right side of the tracks, with parents to look after her and a roof over her head. As she glanced sharply around her, fearful of the growing shadows, her mind began to spiral.

 _Shelter,_ she decided after a moment of fluttery panic. _I should go find some shelter._ Taking a calming breath, she looked around again, this time for a hideout instead of shapeless threats. She found it in an alleyway, where there was a gap between a dumpster and a wooden fence. This way, she could tuck herself away in the small nook between the dumpster and the parallel barrier while having a brick wall at her back and another concrete wall about eight paces in front of her. Not to mention the small space would help her conserve body heat, which she was losing more rapidly as the evening temperature continued to drop.

Standing before her discovery, she examined the spot again in a dazed sort of amazement. She knew her circumstances were strange, but her excitement from discovering the nook was both intensely real and completely ridiculous. Surely it hadn't always been this way. She knew she was born with these abilities –that she remembered with stunning clarity- but this couldn't have always been her life. She couldn't have always become so excited by such an objectively dismal solution to an obviously dreadful situation. At some point, perhaps a long time ago, she would have never believed she would be sleeping in an ally, regardless of the circumstances.

Right?

She cringed as a particularly loud mind stampeded into her awareness, alien in nature but sharing the same clarity of her own thoughts. It was from a woman in her early twenties, although she was made older by the harsh reality she lived in. She was scared about losing her job as a cashier because the two-hour bus ride to work always made her about twenty minutes late, and her boss was starting to object. The woman continued her nervous fretting, unaware of her unwilling witness. The girl couldn't be sure, but she suspected she lived in the building behind her, although it didn't really matter.

The girl breathed deeply, attempting to block the woman out with no real success, and acceptingly plopped down into her alcove. Typically, she would have worried about a voice of that strength keeping her awake, but she fell into an uneasy, frigid sleep within minutes.

l-l-l

She woke up suddenly, without any definite cause. By now night had settled firmly on the area, blanketing everything in its murky darkness. The girl blinked, curling herself into a tighter ball as the frigid air clawed through her clothes. The voices were sparser now, although she could make out the watery images of nearby dreams as they wisped through her mind. It was nothing compared to the terrible din she had suffered though that day, and in the relative quiet she was able to shut the door within her mind a few more degrees.

Then she noticed.

 _Why am I wasting my time out here?_ A young boy grumbled. In her newfound tranquility, the thought filtered into the girl's mind with ease, instantly occupying her attention. _Batman didn't even tell me where he was going. It must be pretty dangerous if he didn't want me along._ She felt the boy's agitation rise, the hair on her arms and neck rising. _Goddammit, avoiding this kind of useless busywork is why I joined the Team in the first place! If he wasn't planning on giving me a real assignment, why the hell didn't he let me go with them on the mission tonight?_

The girl barely concealed her excitement. She had found Robin! She could feel the boy's presence as his thoughts wafted into her mind. Sure, it wasn't Batman, but she wasn't about to complain about finding a lock pick when she needed the key. Ignoring her stiff muscles, the girl sprang to her feet. The darkness was thick, but she searched wildly anyways as she exited the alley.

For the first time she could remember, her body felt agile as she flitted around the empty street. Her excitement was exhilarating. _Robin! Robin! I found him! I did it!_

Unable to locate his position, she focused inwardly to pinpoint his voice. Perhaps there was someway she could discover his location through his thoughts, or she would learn more about him, just gain _something_.

 _I'm starting to get why Speedy- ah, I mean Red Arrow- refused to join. After everything I've done, he still treats me like an overeager kid. Sometimes I really-…wait…what is moving…is that…a girl?_

The girl clenched her fists in excitement, sending her heart pounding. _He can see me!_ _He's close! Oh, Robin's close and I can find him and Batman'll finally be able to rid me of this curse! They'll help me! They'll help me! They'll-_

The girl's knees hit the ground, jarring her upper body. Her mind was reverberating like an old clock tower's bell. Her warped voice echoed inside her head, _H_ _e_ L _P_ _h_ _E_ LP _H_ E _L_ _p_ _,_ as her psyche collided with Robin's. Simultaneously, she heard the boy mentally lash out in confusion, recoiling from her existence. The girl tipped to her side and choked as muddy puddle-water sloshed into her hood, clawing icy trails down her back. She couldn't breathe. Her voice, her horribly tangled mess of screeching, stampeding words cascading within her skull: h _E_ l _P_ _H_ e _L_ _P_ _H_ EL _p!_ She gasped, writhing in the arctic water, the door disintegrating within her.

 _Robin!_ She thought desperately, her tears mixing with the puddle below her. _Robin…help!_


	2. Headaches

**Hello again! My updates have never been this close together, but then again I've never had a story that was this easy to write! In any case, I've really been enjoying writing this story, so I hope you enjoy reading it too! Please let me know what you think, especially if something seems OOC or just wrong. I would really like to know so that I can make it better! Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

When the cataclysmic thunder in his mind finally ceased, Robin slowly became aware of the cold concrete beneath his cheek. He felt sluggish, as if his mind was a computer attempting to run every imaginable program at full force; he simply couldn't keep up. Something had overloaded his brain, forced itself inside him and exploded like painful fireworks of pure mental power.

Pushing himself onto his elbows, he suspiciously glanced over the rooftop's edge where he had been grudgingly surveilling the area. Had that been an attack? Judging by how effectively the mental strike had incapacitated him, it would make sense, except… the noise, it had sounded like words. Actually, it had sounded like _help._ More than an attack, Robin suspected it was a message. Or more specifically…

A plea.

Robin continued to motionlessly scan the area before spotting the girl. He had been watching her before the attack, reasonably sure she was hyped up on some street drug. But the voice that had rattled inside his head spoke to something more complicated.

After all, it just seemed too coincidental. The girl had seemingly popped out of nowhere, urgently looking for someone. She had seem thrilled, and although Robin knew his cover was perfect, he has sworn she had looked right at him in the seconds before the crash. Not to mention that shattering voice in his head had sounded an awful lot like it belonged to a girl…

Robin swung down from the roof, glancing gracefully off balconies to slow his 10-story plunge. He landed soundlessly on the sidewalk and approached the girl warily. As much as he wanted to help her, he couldn't rule out the possibility of a trap. He signed internally. _Batman's cynicism is starting to ware off on me._

As he grew closer, he began to notice the girl's pitiful state. Her brown hair was tangled in greasy knots, now soaked in grimy street water. Her cheeks were angular and her skin was ghostly pale, reminding him of white tissue paper stretched taunt over a misshapen gift. Her hands, which loosely shielded her head, were cracked and bleeding from the cold. He couldn't make out of the rest of her body from underneath the baggy, filthy clothes, but he knew the signs of starvation he would likely find.

She lay on her side, breathing heavily, her eyes frantically moving beneath closed lids. Robin knelt down, ignoring the shock as the icy water met his legs, and lifted her into a sitting position against him. The water was high enough to creep into her lips, and he was afraid that it might otherwise drown her.

"Hey," he tested, awkwardly maneuvering her weight to free his right arm. Her head lolled backward at an uncomfortable angle, but she didn't react. Robin cringed, shifting to reposition her head on his shoulder. "Hey," he tried again, this time lightly patting her cheek. "Hey, wake up."

After getting no response, he removed a gauntlet, pressing two fingers of his freed hand against her neck. He could feel her pulse weakly flutter beneath his touch. He no longer could waste time trying to rouse her for an explanation. He was just going to have to trust that she was as innocent as she looked.

Robin readjusted again, trying to ease the strain her weight put on his joints, and tapped the communicator in his ear. "Robin to Batman, Robin to Batman."

Robin waited a couple moments, and was just about to try again when an obviously disgruntled Batman hissed through the comm. _"This is Batman. What is it?"_

Robin paused, struggling to summarize his situation. "Uh, I've got an unconscious citizen here. She's breathing, but her pulse is weak-"

 _"Then take her-"_ Robin could hear a solid thwack and Batman's responding grunt as his command was interrupted, "- _to the hospital."_

Robin rubbed his forehead. _Bruce must really be distracted if he thinks I'd radio about a normal civilian._

"I don't think that's an option," he replied, trying not to sound irritated. Despite his best efforts, his annoyance only doubled as he listened to the fight raging between Batman and some unknown assailant -a fight Batman had ensured would not include Robin.

The silence was interrupted by static, making him wince as it raged in his ear, and Robin briefly wondered if the link had been cut. A moment later Batman answered. _"Not up for debate! Don't contact me again unless your life's on the line."_

Robin set his jaw, betrayal worming in his gut. His next words were both a snarl and a plea. "Wait, this could be impor-"

 _"Not the time. Batman out."_

Robin swore as he heard the line click closed. Not only had Batman insisted he waste an entire evening watching an insignificant street corner, but when something actually _did_ happen he totally blew him off! Bitter, Robin toyed with the idea of opening the link again just to tell him off, but eventually discarded the notion. Bruce had seemed pretty busy with whatever mission he was pursuing, and besides, the girl needed his help _now._

But Robin couldn't take her to the hospital, regardless of Batman's order. He reasoned that, if she really was the one who caused the mental assault, she must have some pretty powerful psychic abilities. Average doctors weren't trained for that sort of thing, and Robin could only guess the dangers she might pose to both the equipment and the people. Not to mention the press just loved a good rescue story, and one starring either the Boy Wonder _or_ Gotham's most famous ward would surely make headlines. Robin sighed. Things got messy when the media was involved, especially if you had a secret to protect.

His only option was to disobey Batman's command, which in his present mood was actually a pretty attractive choice. Unfortunately, it didn't solve the fact that the girl still needed medical attention. Alfred was out of the question for obvious reasons ( _no outsiders in the Batcave, no putting Alfred in danger, no disobeying a direct order,_ listed Robin internally), and the Team was…

Robin tapped his gauntlet, which immediately projected the time. 3:48am. The Team's mission was scheduled to end around 2:30, which still left over an hour for the overtime they inevitably used to nose around further. Robin grinned; he had found his next move.

Robin watched the girl as he tapped his communicator once more, unwilling to risk missing a sign of consciousness. "Robin to Cave, Robin to Cave."

The response was almost immediate. _"Hey what's up? I thought you were supposed to be with Batman tonight."_

Robin scoffed, ignoring the pang that hit his gut. "Yeah, you and me both." He paused, refocusing his thoughts. "Listen KF, do you think you could meet me at my location? I've got a girl here and-"

 _"A girl!? Are you on a date?"_

Robin could've smacked him… and probably would've if Wally had been in arm's length. "No!" he snapped, exasperated. "She needs medical attention, and I can't take her to a regular hospital, and it'll take me forever to lug her to a zeta-tube!"

 _"Why can't you take her to the hospital?"_ his friend asked, his voice too casual for the stress Robin was experiencing.

Robin gritted his teeth. Why couldn't they discuss this later? Why did everyone have to double-check everything he did? "Walls, listen." He paused a second, knowing the silence would draw the focus of Wally's hyperactive mind. He continued slowly, hoping his tone didn't come across as condescending. "Her pulse is dropping, so I need you to get her to the Cave. _Now._ "

Wally was quiet, but Robin could tell he registering the severity reflected in his tone. After a few terse moments, Wally's voice piped through the speaker once more. _"Got it. Pinpointing your location now. Hang tight."_

l-l-l

"Robin. Kid Flash." Red Tornado's robotic voice greeted them as they entered Mount Justice, the girl slumped between their shoulders. "On who's authority have you brought an unidentified civilian into this base?"

Robin stared at the android, trying to repress his annoyance. "Mine," he replied, but the response sounded too harsh even to his own ears. Wally shot him a surprised look, but didn't comment. After all, it was a reasonable question. Red just happened to be the third person tonight to directly doubt his judgment.

Robin took a breath. "Please," he said trying again, allowing his tone to defer to Red Tornado's authority. "I'll explain later. Right now this girl could really use some help."

The hero moved closer, obviously analyzing the girl's condition. After a moment, he returned his attention to Robin. "Understood. I will rely on your judgment until time is no longer a factor. Afterwards, I expect to hear an appropriate explanation for this break of security." It was said as a statement, but Robin knew it was nearing a threat. _At least he'll hear me out before deciding my punishment,_ the boy thought sourly.

Robin could feel the unease rolling off his friend as he warded off his own growing doubt. Grateful for the speedster's help, he made a mental note to thank Wally for his blind trust once this was over. And if Red didn't accept Robin's explanation, he would have to shield Wally from the blame too.

"Her heart rate continues to fall." Somehow, Red Volcano's monotonic voice managed to convey his urgency. "Allow me to transport her to the medical bay. Martian Manhunter is still tending to Aqualad, but I believe he will prioritize the girl."

Taking the girl into his arms, Red Tornado proceeded down the hall, the two younger heroes on his heels. As they matched Red's brisk walk, Robin turned to Wally.

"Kaldur got hurt?"

Kid nodded, looking empathetic but calm. "Yeah, he got a broken-glass shower when two goons broke in through a window." Wally winced. "He wouldn't have been caught in it but M'gann was standing right there, so he pushed her out of the way and…" He trailed off, shrugging tiredly. "It wasn't her fault or anything, but try telling _her_ that."

Robin stepped into the medical bay, attention still on KF. "But he's okay?"

Wally didn't have to answer. "I am fine."

Robin turned to face Aqualad, who was sitting on the steel medical observation table. Robin smiled at him, relieved.

Kaldur smiled back. "You have no need to worry; a skin is tougher than most."

"But not altogether impenetrable," J'onn countered thoughtfully, rounding the table with a metal tray full of sparkling red slivers. As he spoke, more fragments were telepathically lifted away from his patient, none larger than a bobby pin. Aqualad tensed, but didn't otherwise react.

"Ouch," Wally said, eyeing the tray's newly delivered contents.

Further in, Red Tornado laid the girl down on a hospital bed, where she released a low moan. Suddenly, all attention was focused on her.

"Who is-" Kaldur began to ask, but J'onn was louder.

"Everyone, OUT!" Robin felt Wally jump in surprise beside him. He hadn't been expecting the outburst either.

Wally stared at the Leaguer in confusion. "What do you-"

"Please, leave at once!" He commanded as a gentle, if forceful, telepathic force guided them toward the door. He turned to Aqualad, who looked equally puzzled. "I apologize, Kaldur'ahm. I must finish your treatment another time."

Kaldur hopped down from the table and grabbed his shirt, reluctant to exit. "Please, if something is the matter-"

J'onn interrupted him as he hurried toward the girl. "No! Everything will be fine, but you must not stay here. I insist you leave at once!"

At this point Robin and Wally had been guided successfully through the doorframe, too confused and startled to effectively resist. Kaldur join them, questions dancing in his eyes.

Martian Manhunter swiftly placed an IV, his eyes glowing with telepathic power. He didn't look at them.

"Consider the Medical Bay off limits to anyone but Red Tornado and I, _including_ other members of the League! No one is to step foot in the east wing of Mount Justice under any circumstance!"

Robin could barely stop from sputtering. "But-"

Facing away from them as he tended to the girl, Manhunter flicked his hand, slamming the door closed.

* * *

 **Ok, I hope you liked it! If you have the time, please remember to comment or review!**


	3. Understandings

**Hello all! I know this chapter is a little shorter than my two previous updates, but I also wrote it in a day, so** **¯\\_(ツ)_/¯. If you have time, please let me know what you think! I look forward to getting reviews/comments/questions very much! And of course, enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

The three teammates sat on the lounge's forest green couches, reflecting on Robin's tale. Wally was perched to the boy's right, fiddling with his removed goggles. Kaldur sat on the perpendicular couch to Robin's left, contemplatively motionless. The Boy Wonder bit his lip, glad to have shared his experience, but still unnerved by J'onn's earlier reaction.

Unsurprisingly, it was Wally who broke the silence. "She spoke…into your _mind?"_ He looked up from his lap, staring uneasily at his friend. He opened his mouth to ask another question, but unable to find the words, closed it again.

Robin glanced at him, frowning. "I mean, kinda, but…not really." The young boy's face twisted as he tried to put the strange phenomenon into words. When it was clear he would have to break the resumed silence, he settled on: "It wasn't anything like when Miss M links us up during a mission."

Aqualad nodded. "Yes, you said it was painful."

Robin pressed his lips together. "Yeah, but even beyond the pain, it was still… _different_. It was like…" Irked with his inability to convey his meaning, he grunted and waved his arms a little in the air, glancing up helplessly.

Wally stared at him, before saying flatly, "You're going to have to be a little more specific."

Robin glared at his friend halfheartedly but was unable to deny Wally's logic. "I know. It just isn't that easy."

"Try describing how it feels when M'gann speaks telepathically with you," Aqualad offered, unflustered.

Robin, ignoring the obvious question of why, took a breath. "With Miss M it feels…normal?" Robin snorted, realizing the stupidity of his statement. "I mean, duh! Most of that is probably because I'm used to it, but still…"

"Yes?" Kaldur prompted, leaning forward.

Robin shrugged, a little uncomfortable with the concentrated attention. "I guess it just doesn't feel so _alien,_ and I don't mean in the actual Martian-Kryptonian sense. It's like she's just speaking normally, except I hear her in my head."

Beside him, Wally nodded. "I can get that. It's almost like an internal comm link or something."

Robin turned to him and smiled gratefully. "Exactly."

Kaldur smiled briefly as well before returning to his serious disposition. "But with the girl, it was different?"

Robin nodded. "Very."

Kaldur continued to stare at him intently. "How so?"

This time the words seemed to come easily. "It was like nothing I've ever heard before. Her words…" He paused, wincing, "…if you could really even call them that- they weren't normal at all. It was like someone recorded a thousand people all chaotically screaming 'help!' at the same time, then morphed it into something almost unrecognizable."

Robin leaned forward, determined to express himself before he suddenly lost the right words. "But that isn't even the weirdest part!" he said lowly, as if it was too bizarre to risk anyone overhearing. "It was like it overloaded my brain; I couldn't think of anything else."

Wanting to alleviate the worry etched into his friend's faces, he chuckled and leaned back. "Well, expect maybe 'ow.'"

Kid Flash snorted. "And that was it? One minute you feel like your heads going to pop and then…?" Wall lifted up his hands in a "poof" motion.

Robin pursed his lips. "Yeah, I guess. I did pass out though, so that might've-"

"I think you made the right choice," Kaldur announced decisively, his face resolute. "Batman's orders were uninformed, and thus could not be relied upon. I will gladly stand by you in your decision to bring her here, should the time for an explanation arise."

Robin released a quick breath, relieved by his leader's support. It would have been easier, and safer, for him to side with their superiors. Robin knew he was taking a risk. "Thanks."

"Yeah, well," Wally began, a small smirk pulling at his lips, "judging by what Red told us and Martian Manhunter's major freak-out, I think we're gonna need all the help we can get."

Robin pushed his lips together as he turned to his best friend, ready to give him a way out. "Wally, I never told you the risks, so you don't have to…"

The speedster shook his head dismissively, standing up. "Don't worry about it. Even if you had told me the whole story before asking me to take her, I still would've." He smiled mischievously. "Plus, we gotta stand together in front of the _all-mighty, all-knowing_ League."

"'Stand together?'" Robin smirked, rising as he held out his fist. "What, is that your version of 'All for one'?"

Wally tapped his knuckles. "And 'One for all'!"

Kaldur rose as well, smiling pleasantly. "Agreed," he added before pausing. "Although, I am unsure if I understand the reference."

l-l-l

It was another three hours before J'onn and Red exited the medical bay to address the Team. In that time, Robin had changed into his civvies, eaten two bowls of cereal, taken a shower, worked out, taken _another_ shower, eaten a sandwich, attempted futilely to sleep, and had spent the last thirty minutes pacing through the kitchen.

"I thought I was supposed to be the hyper one?" Wally asked over his shoulder. He popped another chip into his mouth, eyes remaining glued to the screen.

Robin passed behind him again on his hundredth round through the room. "Can't help it. Any minute now I'll have three Leaguers' disapproval to deal with. It's enough to get a guy flustered."

"Three?" Wally asked, distracted by whatever program he was watching.

Robin growled internally. "Yes, Walls, _three."_ He held up his hand, flicking up a finger as he counted. "Manhunter, Tornado, Batman."

Kaldur looked up from his perch in the couch, closing his book. "I understand your concern, Robin, but remember; we _both_ agreed to stand behind you when its time to face our superiors."

It took Wally a minute to notice Kaldur's pointed glare. When he finally managed to pry his eyes from the screen, he only stared at the leader blankly. "What?"

Robin halted, grabbing the back of the couch a little to Wally's left. Resisting the need to bounce on his toes, he explained his behavior. "I know it's going to be fine. It's just a little hard to get 'traught when I have –How is she?" He turned to the two heroes as they entered the room, interrupting himself. Aqualad swiftly rose from the couch, discarding the book beside him. Wally followed, flipping off the T.V.

"She is complicated," Manhunter answered cryptically, but not unkindly. "Where did you find this girl?"

"During a solo patrol in Gotham," Robin summarized. "She kinda screamed into my mind."

"Yes, her psychic abilities are unlike anything I have seen before," Manhunter acknowledged. "It is likely that she does not have full control over them."

"She is requesting an audience with you, Robin," Red Tornado interjected. "She has been asking for the last hour."

"When can we see her?" Kaldur asked.

The Martian Manhunter only shook his head. "For now, only Robin," he replied solemnly. "We can discus other visitors once our guest is in better health."

"Robin, if you would follow us," Red ordered, turning back toward the medical bay. Robin threw a distressed look at his teammates but followed the two Leaguers anyway.

When they had walked out of earshot, Manhunter abruptly turned to him, obviously troubled. "Robin, the reason I demanded that no one enter the east wing is because of that girl's mental capabilities, capabilities I never dreamed an Earthling could possess."

Robin stared at him, not knowing what to say. After a moment, he asked, "Capabilities?"

Manhunter nodded. "Indeed. She is able –no _forced_ to gather people's thoughts into her own mind. Her mind simply taps into all of the minds within range and draws the thoughts out." He stared at the boy, feeling nauseous. "I can only imagine what a terrible existence it must be."

Robin's face grew grim, but he didn't understand why they were only telling him. "That…sounds terrible," he offered.

"Yes," he agreed soberly. "But Robin, she possesses a stronger ability, one which is activated through _touch."_

 _Oh God._ The past night launched itself through his head: him picking her up, him tapping her cheek, him _taking off his glove to check her pulse_. Suddenly, his mouth felt dry.

"What happens when she touches someone?" he asked weakly, feeling slightly dizzy.

Red Tornado stepped closer. "She _learns,_ Robin. She learns everything a person knows."

Robin shook his head, disbelieving. "No way. That isn't possible. _No one_ has that ability."

Manhunter grabbed his shoulder. "I understand your skepticism; I could barely believe it myself! But when she asked to see you, she didn't ask for Robin."

The boy's heart sunk, and he felt sick. _This isn't possible,_ he pleaded internally. _It can't be possible._ Robin already knew what J'onn was going to say, but his words landed like brinks anyway.

"She asked for _Dick."_


	4. Communications

**Hello hello! I hope you all have liked the story so far! This chapter was especially hard to write, but I still got in done in record time! *pats self on back* In any case, if you have the time, _please_ let me know your thoughts on this one! I'm still not sure if I like how it turned out... **

**Also, I want to give a HUGE THANK YOU to everyone who commented/reviewed any of the previous chapters! You guys honestly have no idea how much it means, and how much it encourages me to write.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

Robin ambled down the hallway alone, trying to buy some time to calm his frantic thoughts. He kept envisioning the past night, examining over and over what had gone wrong as he simultaneously tried to squelch the dread that festered in his gut. It was a familiar experience for him, the near-pleading state of _if only I had known!_ It was a lens he used to examine every mistake he had ever made, and in his line of work, there were a lot of them. It began with the obvious:

If only he had spoken up after witnessing Zucco's untrustworthy antics.

If only he had insisted a net be readied below his preforming family.

If only he had inspected the frayed ropes that killed his parents.

Robin stood motionless for a moment, allowing the guilt to rack his slender frame. Those were always the quickest to come to mind, and the most painful, but it never ended there. After apologizing for everything he had missed that night, the statements became more general to cover his four-year career with Batman.

If only he had respected Batman's verdict against sending the nine-year-old Robin on solo patrols.

If only he had been confident enough to insist the girl was still alive, despite the month-long fruitless search.

If only he had known that he couldn't trust a nine-year-old boy to follow orders.

Robin smashed the heel of his palm against his forehead as he added the newest mistake to the list: _If only I had known not to touch that girl!_

At the exact moment he had removed his gauntlet to check her pulse, he had unknowingly sent everything spiraling out of control. If he had just taken her to the hospital, she wouldn't know that Dick Grayson was Robin, or that Bruce Wayne was Batman. If he had instead listened to her heartbeat, she wouldn't know about the Watch Tower, or Wally's weakness to starvation. If he had checked her breathing, she wouldn't know that Artemis' father was Sportsmaster, or that the largest known quantity of Kryptonite was currently hidden in a safe underneath Wayne Manor. If he hasn't touched her skin-to-skin, he wouldn't have to entrust many of the League's most well kept secrets, including his teammate's identities and weaknesses, to a total stranger.

But he had, and no amount of wishful thinking could rewrite the past.

Robin took a breath, gazing at the closed medical bay door. Despite dragging his feet the entire way, he had somehow arrived. He lifted his hand to the door, but something prevented his hovering knuckles from announcing his presence.

He was used to keeping secrets, even from those he trusted with his life. After all, his only friend that knew his civilian identity was Wally, and Robin still didn't tell him _everything._ Assuming he would even want to, the idea was simply not practical; some things were just to personal –and hell, too _boring-_ to disclose.

Although it had come slowly at first, Robin now accepted secrets as part of the job. In fact, he really didn't mind them so much anymore; keeping so much of his life hidden was actually kind of comforting. It allowed him a certain degree of flexibility in his actions, of who he was on and off the street. Having those secrets severed from him so suddenly, so completely…

It was terrifying.

His hand was trembling now, although he wasn't sure if it was from fright or absentmindedly clenching his fist too hard. Regardless, the realization brought him back to the present and out of his rapidly descending spiral of thoughts. After all, he had a job to do and questions to answer.

Steeling himself, Robin allowed his knuckles to fall, his curiosity the only thing preventing him from hoping she was asleep.

This budding hope was dispelled when he heard a startled gasp from inside, followed by a raspy, "Come in."

He entered the room, suddenly wishing he was back in uniform. It didn't matter what she did or did not know; this was a job for Robin. However, unwilling to turn tail for such a petty desire, he continued inside, positioning himself before the hospital bed.

The girl was propped up with a combination of pillows and the bed's ability to incline. Tubes snaked under her nose, into the back of her hand, below her elbow. Two bags hung from the metal rack beside her; one filled with a clear liquid, which fed into her hand, and the other containing a yellowish-white soup mixture, which disappeared into her arm.

The girl had shed her grimy clothes in favor for dull teal medical scrubs, which hung loosely on her tiny frame. She was obviously severely malnourished, and although she had been cleaned up slightly to prevent infections, it had clearly been a while since she had washed herself. Her hair sunk heavily into the pillow supporting her head, dark locks splayed about randomly, giving Robin the odd impression of tree roots.

She licked her dry, cracked lips, weakly attempting to clear her throat. "Hi."

Robin blinked before quickly plastering a disarming smile on his face. "Hi."

A thick silence blanketed the room, and Robin once again wished Wally or Kaldur were beside him; then at least it might not have been so _awkward._

"I wanted to thank you for saving me," she blurted out, effectively shattering the stillness. "I don't think I could've survived much longer on my own." She smiled warmly, but the expression looked tight.

Robin nodded, his smile a bit more genuine, and pulled up a metal folding chair to her left. "You're feeling better then?" he asked, sitting down.

She chuckled, but nodded sincerely. "Yes. Better…Martian Manhunter told me I haven't been eating enough." She tilted her head at the cream-colored bag. "That's helping though."

Another silence reigned, and Robin fought the urge to squirm uncomfortably in his seat. Instead, he took a long breath, attempting to launch into a more pointed conversation. He had questions that needed answering, questions Manhunter and Tornado had listed specifically in their instructions. Until those were answered, he had no reason to trust her.

"I understand why you don't trust me," she interrupted casually, jarring him from his mental preparations. Unwilling to make eye contact, she stared at her hands. "I mean, with these abilities…" Her lips pressed into a line, evidently unable to complete the thought.

When she continued, her voice was clipped, although not unkind. "What I'm trying to say is that I get why I'm not exactly the easiest person to be around. But I want you to know;" she added, snapping her eyes up to meet his, "I didn't _want_ to do whatever it is that happened by the alley." She gulped, a seemingly difficult task, before returning her eyes to her lap. "In your mind I mean."

Robin nodded thoughtfully, refusing to wince as he recalled the mental onslaught. The girl seemed sincere enough, but Batman's cynicism kept him from completely believing her. It was still possible she was some sort of agent, a new addition to the mysterious group called the Light-

The girl winced, and Robin instantly realized his mistake.

"It's okay," she conceded, smiling uncomfortably. "Again, I get it. I don't think I'd trust me either." She shifted in her seat, trying to regain the upright position she was slipping from. Robin handed the bed remote to her, careful to not make contact with her skin. She received it gratefully, increasing the incline a few more notches.

"So, you heard what I thought?" Robin was staring at her, trying to reign in mixed feelings of violation and pity.

The girl's cringed. "Yes. I don't have any control over what I hear."

Robin glanced away from her, understanding gnawing at his gut. "That must be hard."

The girl murmured in agreement, but the noise quickly sent her into a painful coughing fit. After a few sips from the water glass on her bedside table, she regained her composure.

"Okay," she steeled herself, trying to inject some energy into her behavior. Attempting to face Robin, she turned as much as her bed would allow. "You have some questions?"

Robin smiled gratefully. He hadn't known how he was going to re-approach the subject. "Yes." _I should probably start with 'What's your name?' Or maybe…_

The girl sighed. "I don't know."

Robin blinked. "Don't know what?" He watched her face crumple, an illogical sense of guilt washing over him.

"Oh, shit!" the girl cursed. She looked like she wanted to vomit. "You hadn't asked the question yet, had you?"

Robin held up a placating hand, his face softening. "Hey, don't sweat it, all right? I think…" he paused, trying to recollect his previous thought. "I think I was going to ask you your name."

The girl nodded glumly. "Yeah, that's what I heard. I'm sorry, I just don't know."

Robin stared at her. If this girl was an agent, she knew exactly how to pluck at someone's heartstrings. The boy bit his lip, momentarily at a loss for words. Finally, he said softly, "You don't know your name?"

Looking away from him again, the girl shook her head. "I know it's dumb, but I can't remember it. I remember _remembering_ it, but the name itself…?" She shrugged, but the casual movement looked more like she was about to cry.

Oh God, Robin could _not_ handle that right now.

The girl glanced at him, and he wanted to hit himself. _She can hear you, dumbass!_

"Don't worry too much about controlling your thoughts," she offered, once again straightening herself in bed. "I don't really think it's possible. Plus," she continued, smiling brightly once more, "after listening in on people's minds for so long, I don't really put any stock into what they're thinking. It's the actions that count." She stared at the boy, willing him to believe her words. She was so tired of being alone all the time; she wanted to be his friend, or at least for him to like her. Having him feel guilty for just _thinking_ the wrong thing wasn't exactly the way to go.

"Thanks," he replied, impressed by her words. "And for what it's worth," he admitted, returning the smile, "I don't really think you're some sort of spy. It's just that we can't take the chance either."

She shook her head casually, holding up her hands. "Hey, say no more. I'm just glad you're listening to me at all." She returned her focus to him. "So…"

"Next question?" he proposed. She nodded.

"How old are…" Robin faded off, as the girl was already shaking her head.

"I don't know," she admitted dryly, her shoulders twitching up and down. "Honestly, my guess it about as good as yours."

Robin nodded, trying to not appear discouraged (although, with this girl, appearances only meant so much). He took a breath, trying to voice the question without thinking it beforehand, although he doubted his success. "What about family?"

The girl cracked a smile. "Well, I'm human, so I'm pretty sure I had one at some point!"

It wasn't an especially funny joke, but Robin found himself laughing all the same. The girl laughed too. It felt nice.

"Okay," Robin recovered cheerfully, lifting his shades just high enough to swipe at the moisture in his eyes. "How about this: is there anything you _do_ remember?"

The girl tapped her chin, her eyes cast to the side in exaggerated thought. "Hmm…anything…Oh!" Suddenly, she folded in half, exposing her teal back to the startled boy. Clearing away her hair, she revealed a metal bump about the size of a cough drop imbedded in the back of her neck, about an inch below her hairline.

"I remember that I have this really weird thing right here." She tapped it with a finger as if Robin could have missed it.

Robin stood, trying to get a better look at the inorganic object. It was made out of a shiny, silvery metal, with odd black lines running throughout it. It looked new. "What is it?" he asked, his humorous manner gone.

"I dunno," the girl replied, sitting up once again. "I just know it's been there since I was born."

Robin looked at her doubtfully. "How can you be sure?"

The girl shrugged, but didn't seem bothered by the question. "I just know. It's one of only two things I know for sure."

Robin stared at her questioningly. "And the other?"

The girl looked at him brightly, all the previous awkwardness gone. "That I've had these powers all my life too."

"Hmm." Robin replied. For some reason, he wasn't so sure.


	5. Determinations

**Hello! It's been a little while since my last update, but in my defense, college is hard :P. In any case, I hope the wait is worth it. The story's been a little action-less as of yet, but I needed (and still need to a bit more) lay the groundwork before it gets more exciting. Don't worry, I'll get there.** **I want to say a big thank you to everyone who has reviewed/messaged/favorited/followed! It means so much to me, since I really only like to write when I know people will find some enjoyment out of it. And, being an American, I think we all need all the enjoyment we can get after the last few days.**

 **And, now, enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

After two hours questioning the girl, Robin had learned frustratingly little. When he would observe Batman's interrogations, it never played out this way. Either the perp couldn't tell them anything useful, or he needed a little more convincing before sharing his insight. Both of these situations Robin could deal with, easy.

But Robin had never faced something like this. This girl didn't know her own name, her age, her address. Everything about her family was swiped clean, and she couldn't even recall a favorite book or meal. This stuff was supposed to be easy, a way to warm up to the real questions. It was the kind of information Robin expected every suspect to know, regardless if they were even relevant to the case. But unless the girl was an incredibly good actress, she really couldn't remember a thing.

Except, as she continuously reminded him throughout their conversation, that she had been born with her powers and that strange metal egg in her neck. These two facts were the only islands of memory in an otherwise blank mind, and she refused to see how suspicious that was no matter how many times Robin brought it up. And he had, _plenty_.

 _How did you get to Gotham?_

 _No idea._

 _How long have you lived on the street?_

 _I don't know._

 _But you're absolutely positive you were born with that metal piece?_

 _Yes._

 _Without a doubt?_

 _Yes._

 _Even though you can't remember anything else?_

 _Well, I remember you asking me this exact question four times now._

Silence.

 _Yes, I'm positive._

 _And your powers? Also since birth?_

 _…_

 _Maybe my memory loss is contagious._

And so it had gone on and on. At the end, Red Tornado had entered, suggesting that they resume the conversation after the girl rested. In actuality, the suppressed frustration radiating off of both the teens probably had more to do with it than any need to rest. Not that he was complaining.

Independent of the girl's recovery, Robin had to admit that rest was looking pretty appetizing right now. The young boy had been up since five in the morning on Friday, over twenty-eight hours ago. His joints felt achy from sleep deprivation, and the earlier adrenaline boost had left his mind sluggish.

So he had left, despondent in the knowledge that the only other important thing he had discovered was that, yes, she had learned _everything_ about him. Absolutely everything. The circumstances of family's death, his partnership with Bruce, where he went to school, his budding crush on the pretty brunette who sat in front of him in math class. Hell, she even knew his freaking _locker combination!_ More importantly, however, was the fact that she knew about Artemis' relation to Sportsmaster, Aqualad and M'gann's weakness to heat, and all of their secret identities…in addition to not just a few League secrets either.

Everything Robin knew, she knew too. Things he had been successfully hiding for years, like his unease towards dogs or the boorish guys that picked on him at school. Even things Robin had forgotten –like the Romani lullaby his mother sang to him as an infant. And she had no idea when or if she would ever forget it.

 _But surely you'll forget it all at some point, right? I mean, if you've had these powers since birth, there's no way you can remember_ everything _about_ everyone _you've ever touched._

 _Well, I_ have _had these powers since birth. And I remember…a lot of people._

 _How many?_

The girl had paused, but Robin could tell she was a little irked by the question. It had been over an hour since this conversation had started, and both of them were getting frustrated.

 _It's not that easy._

 _Why? If you remember all of them-_

 _Well how about you list everyone_ you _know, and then I'll see what I can do._

Another pause.

 _Sorry, that was out of line. I'm trying; it's just not that easy. I didn't mean to snap._

 _It's all right, point taken. Let's just both relax._

Awkward silence.

 _Out of everyone I remember, though, your memories are the clearest. If that helps._

It had -a little. Still, the idea that she might eventually remember his secrets just a little less clearly was not that reassuring. For the thousandth time, he cursed himself for laying a gloveless finger on her. He might as well have just handed her a dictation of his every thought, wrapped up in a bow and good tidings.

It was because of this thought whirling around in his brain that Robin failed to notice J'onn's presence until he was standing directly over the lounge couch. "Robin," the Martian rumbled gently, "I thought you had gone to sleep."

Robin, surprised he had not sensed his entrance, rubbed at his eyes. Had he dozed off?

He stood, smiling tiredly at the Leaguer. "No, not yet. I wanted to get your opinion on the girl." His smile morphed into a tight line. "I'm… kinda at a loss."

Manhunter nodded thoughtfully. Out of all the Leaguers, Robin had a special appreciation for the elder Martian. His calm, appeasing nature was a sharp contrast to most of the other League members', not to mention he was practically a one-man army. His ability to read minds, to forcibly hack into one's deepest thoughts and memories, was remarkable; yet it was J'onn's commitment against doing so that Robin found much more impressive. As a more traditional hacker himself, Robin wondered if he would have the restraint not to peek into people's minds every once in a while if their roles were reversed. He certainly didn't hold back with computers…

Manhunter sighed, taking a seat in the armchair to Robin's right. He looked exhausted. "Her situation is tragic," he admitted, his disturbed tone reflecting the words. "My people use telepathy to communicate; for us, it is normal. We are equipped to project our thoughts as speech, but also to shield the parts of our minds we wish to keep private. She does not seem to possess the same control."

Robin leaned forward, his fatigue suddenly forgotten. He had read the Martian's bio on the Batcave's computer but never had the opportunity to hear it straight from the Leaguer himself. "Is that why you remained in the room with her," the boy asked hesitantly, "after sending us away?"

Manhunter eyes gleamed, impressed. "Yes. Both Red Tornado and myself are immune to her abilities." His face steeled again. "But humans are different. By only communicating through speech, it was never necessary for them to develop mastery over their own thoughts." He paused for a minute, before adding, "When I first arrived at this planet, I was unprepared for this reality."

Robin nodded comprehendingly. "You were overloaded."

The Martian nodded as well. "Correct. Never before had I needed to push another's thoughts away from my mind, and never before at such an immense volume."

Something clicked in Robin's mind, sending excited electric sparks down his spine. "You were _absorbing_ thoughts," he said earnestly, enthused by his comprehension. "You were just intercepting all of the information, like a giant satellite dish. You weren't going to them, _they_ were coming to _you."_

Manhunter smiled. "Correct again, Robin."

Robin thumbed behind him in the general direction of the medical bay. "And you think that that's what's happening to her?"

Manhunter inclined his head slowly. "Judging by your recent conversation, I do -at least in part." He released a breath, making a vague, exhausted gesture. "But there are still so many unanswered questions…"

Robin bobbed his head knowingly. "Like what that metal thing on her neck is."

Manhunter nodded. "And how she can absorb one's life story through touch," he added well-meaningly. Robin winced.

J'onn considered the boy's expression carefully. "She would have died without your help, Robin. You saved her life."

Robin glanced away, unconvinced. "Yeah, and I only gave away our every secret in the process."

J'onn leaned forward, drawing the boy's attention. "You should never regret a life saved, and certainly not one as special as hers."

Robin nodded, not completely at ease with his situation yet too uncomfortable to argue. "So," he said uneasily, changing the subject, "do you think we can help her?"

Manhunted considered the question. "Although her powers share the same semblances as mine, I suspect the inner-workings to be quite different."

Robin deflated, tightening his lips in an attempt to conceal his disappointment.

"But," Manhunter concluded, "I believe we can try."

It wasn't exactly a pep speech, but Robin felt himself strangely uplifted. J'onn wasn't giving up, and if a powerhouse of the League believed there was a chance they could help this girl then so did Robin. There was a way out of this; Robin just needed to keep at it.

"Okay," he replied, determination etched into his young features. "I'm ready to give it my all."

Manhunter smiled, relieved to see the boy's change in attitude. "For now, I will focus on analyzing her condition and hopefully discovering a way to ease her situation. I will have to talk with Batman," he began pointedly, and Robin inwardly cringed.

 _He means you should have already talked to him_.

"-but I would like the Team to cover the other half of this investigation," he finished. "We need to find out how she came to posses such abilities, and who –if anyone- is involved."

Robin nodded, resolute. This was his problem, and now he would fix it. Collecting information, Batman had taught him, was a vital part of that.

Manhunter rose, decisively staring down at the young hero before him. "Until Batman agrees, however, it does not concern you." Before Robin could voice his obvious displeasure, he suggested kindly, "In the meantime, perhaps you should take this opportunity to catch up on some well-deserved sleep."

Robin opened his mouth to object, but was unable to find the words. As much as he wanted to launch into action, sleep…made sense. Robin was well versed in all-nighters, but he never enjoyed them (unless it involved Wally and a good movie). Plus, now that there was a good chance he wasn't going to get chewed out for his breach of League policy (at least until Batman arrived, that is), his muscles were relaxing pleasantly, preparing for a healing rest. Not to mention that he would need to think clearly in order to investigate Miss Jane Doe's case of the disappearing memories, which he was planning on doing regardless of Batman's verdict.

"Thanks," he replied simply, already weighing the pros and cons of sleeping in the Cave against returning to Wayne Manor.

Manhunter turned, and presumably started to head back toward the medical bay, before halting at the edge of the room. "Oh, and Robin," he called, facing the boy.

The Boy Wonder twisted on the couch, half kneeling to see the Leaguer over the couch's back. "Uh, yeah?"

The Martian's eyes looked different, less steeled, almost…twinkling? "Perhaps you did not reveal the League's _every_ secret."

Something hard rose in Robin's throat, but Manhunter turned too quickly to notice his sputtering or inflamed cheeks.

At least, that what Robin told himself.


	6. Realities

**Hello! I hope everyone here in America had a great Thanksgiving! I know I did...but I also know that this update is long past due. Part of that really isn't my fault -I had to study for finals, move out of my dorm for winter break and catch up with old friends! So, in an effort to make up for the long(ish) wait, this chapter is about 30% larger than the norm. I know that doesn't sound like a lot, but I think it's also a pretty neat chapter. I was going to attempt to basically skip Robin's explanation to Batman as well as any development of the Team's relationship with the girl (who will eventually get a name I promise) so that I could get to the exciting stuff, but it was just too clunky. I'll get to the exciting action stuff in time, which will hopefully be in the next few chapters. Until then, enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

Robin fought the compulsion to shift uncomfortably as Batman's breath glanced down the back of his neck. Thanks to his decision to sleep a beautiful four hours at the Cave and the timely interception of Manhunter just minutes after Batman's arrival, the Dynamic Duo hadn't had the chance to really talk one-on-one. At first Robin had been grateful, surmising that Manhunter's explanation of the situation might calm the obviously irritated Knight. This hope, however, was soon shattered when Robin attempted to widen the two inches between himself and his mentor, causing a firm, gauntleted hand to instantly clamp down on his shoulder. The grip was removed after another moment, but the message –and the resulting knot in Robin's stomach– remained. As if allergic to the lingering emotional residue, Robin's shoulder itched intermittently, reminding him of Batman's unspoken words; _You will leave when I_ tell _you to do so Dick, and not a_ moment _earlier._ Now, instead of hoping Batman would be calmed, Robin knew he was just utilizing this time to devise the perfect punishment …and the longer they stood there, the worse it would be.

Dejectedly, the Boy Wonder glanced around the Mission Room. Clearly, he wasn't the only one to notice Batman's foul mood. As the Leaguer stood unflinchingly studying the holographic display of M'gann and the girl projected directly before him, the remainder of the Team cautiously positioned themselves to either side, giving the Knight a hopefully excessive three-foot girth. Even Martian Manhunter minded his teammate's dark aura, choosing to stand somewhere behind Batman's left shoulder, a safe distance away. Robin bit the inside of his cheek, hoping the movement was undetectable from the outside. He couldn't help but notice that while everyone else was carefully accommodating the seething man's need for space, Robin was practically pressed up against his chest. It made it harder to keep a lid on his panic, which he futilely prayed had somehow gone unnoticed by Batman, and almost impossible to concentrate on the holograph.

Strenuously, Robin forced his attention back to the screen. After Robin's initial talk with the girl, Manhunter had officially forbidden him from accessing the east wing. According to Artemis, once Robin had gone to bed, Martian Manhunter himself had tried to make some headway with the girl. It had apparently not gone well, with Artemis chalking it up to what she called Manhunter's unintentional ability to "make someone wet themselves with a look." Apparently, she had even told him so, which Robin found hilarious for obvious reasons. Since then, however, Manhunter had kept his distance, allowing M'gann to step in. Thanks to her Martian brain, she was the only one outside of Manhunter and Tornado who was immune to the girl's abilities and was thus unrestrained by her uncle's ban. Still, Manhunter forbade his niece against touching the girl, worried that M'gann's untrained mind might still buckle under the girl's magnetic abilities.

Thankfully, M'gann seemed to be having more luck then either of her predecessors. It had barely been three hours, yet the two girls were already yakking it up like old friends. After spending two hours in the same room alternating between frustration and awkwardness, Robin had to admit that M'gann's progress was impressive.

"When you are ready, Batman, I will instruct M'gann to begin the questioning," Manhunter rumbled, his voice almost…hesitant? Robin couldn't be sure, although he wouldn't blame the Martian for being cautious.

Robin wanted to ask how the two aliens could safely communicate telepathically around a girl who seemed to pluck thoughts right out of the air, but another hot exhale from Batman kept him silent. After all, he was confident Manhunter was able to keep such a link private; the "how" could be addressed when he didn't have a furious vigilante _literally_ breathing down his neck.

"In a moment," Batman replied coolly, motionless as he regarded the interactions playing out before him. In the pastel shades of the holograph, M'gann's green arms were flying about in wild gestures as she recalled some alien creature native to her home planet.

'It's like a big dog, but with wings,' M'gann continued as the girl held her gut with laughter. 'And a really long tail,' she giggled mirthfully. 'And no eyes.'

'Jesus!' the girl chortled, her sides apparently aching from the resulting laughing fit. 'I mean, I love dogs, but I don't know how to feel about a blind Martian dragon-dog!' Another chuckle slipped from her lips, but she remained in control. 'What did you call it again?'

'Ab'kli'ma,' M'gann answered, shining a brilliant smile. 'And you would _love_ them! They are loyal and intelligent: a really great friend!'

The girl smiled energetically. 'I guess I'll have to take your word for it.'

The duo grew silent, but Robin could instantly tell it was different than those he had suffered through during his time with the girl. Instead of awkward and dragging, the pause seemed peaceful: a natural lull in their continuing conversation. The musical term 'active rest' helpfully popped into his mind.

After a few minutes, the girl cracked a small smirk. 'Ah-bah-klema?' she asked clumsily, holding back chuckles.

M'gann leaned back, virtually howling with laughter. 'Oh, gosh, I'm sorry, but that means something totally different!' The alien shook her head, her red hair swooshing in gentle waves as she calmed herself. 'Try again, okay?' she encouraged once she had regained control. She repeated the Martian word slowly, excited to teach. 'AB-KLEE-MAH.'

The girl straightened, licking her lips as she prepared herself. 'Ahhb-kleem-ah?'

Wally, who at some point during Robin's slumber had changed into his civvies, shifted awkwardly a few feet to the boy's right. Robin turned his head slightly toward him, his eyes sharp as daggers, but the warning was lost behind his shades.

Oblivious to his friend's cautioning, Wally gulped, looking like he was about to vibrate right out of his clothes. "Uh," he began brilliantly, "sorry, but what exactly are we looking at?"

A still moment passed, and Robin's hope that someone would prevent Batman from having to answer was dashed. Robin felt his mentor stiffen with irritation, the reaction likely unperceivable to anyone not stationed so close to the man. _Jesus Christ Wally,_ Robin swore mentally, _of all the stupid questions to ask…_

Batman didn't move when he addressed the young speedster, but Robin could feel the ice in his pseudo-casual words. "Something wrong with your eyes, Kid Flash?"

Wally blanched, a loud, nervous chuckle escaping an equally nervous smile, and took a small half step back. "Nope," he replied, his voice sounding dry as he scratched the back of his neck. "All good over here…forget I asked."

Thankfully, Batman merely grunted. _Maybe he isn't as angry as I thought,_ Robin thought tentatively. _Maybe he'll only ground me for a week or make me do another one of those annoying endurance exercises._

Robin's inner monologue was interrupted when Batman turned slightly to address Martian Manhunter. "Okay, give her the go-ahead."

Mimicking his mentor, Robin fixated his attention on the screen, attempting to catch whatever Batman was obviously searching for. The girl was making some joke about her amateur pronunciation of the Martian animal, oblivious to M'gann's momentary detachment. After a couple seconds, M'gann returned to eagerly listening, waiting for the girl to finish her point.

Despite her ignorance to the telepathic command, the girl quickly picked up on M'gann's new kind, yet serious atmosphere. She bit her lip worriedly, her eyes flicking over the Martian. 'I didn't offend you, did I?'

M'gann looked startled, likely oblivious to her sudden change in demeanor, and moved to touch the girl comfortingly on the shoulder. 'Oh, that's not it at-'

Robin inhaled sharply, nausea rising in his gut as he pointlessly extended an arm toward the unfolding scene. He barely noticed Batman's sudden tensing. "She's gonna-!"

The girl scooted away frantically, her weakened state apparent. 'Don't touch me!' she wheezed, her eyes wide with terror. 'You can't! Please!'

M'gann, realizing her mistake, snatched her hand back, her green cheeks a surprising shade of red.

Robin visibly relaxed, bringing his extended arm in to touch his pounding chest. He expelled a pint up breath, grateful another teammate hadn't exposed herself like he had.

'I'm sorry!' the young Martian gasped. 'I didn't mean to scare you like that! I guess I just forgot. I'm really sorry.' She twisted her hand into her blue combat skirt, and Robin could tell she was still fighting the urge to physically comfort her.

The girl, now shaking, forced a weak smile to her lips. 'It's okay, nothing happened. Don't worry about it.'

"Tell M'gann to ask the girl about her actions." Batman rumbled lowly to his colleague. "I want to know why she reacted so strongly."

Robin nodded to himself, remarking absentmindedly, "After all, what does she have to lose?"

Batman grunted in agreement, while M'gann once again grew distant from her company. It was barely noticeable, the way her head turned slightly to the side and her eyes glazed over, but the Team observed it instantly.

'I'm sorry I almost touched you,' M'gann continued awkwardly as she followed the telepathic instructions, 'but why are you so afraid?' Her brow knit with concern and confusion. 'I mean, shouldn't I be the one who's scared to reveal so much about myself?'

The girl drew up her legs into a loose pretzel position, fiddling absentmindedly with the slack blanket in the area encircled by her legs. 'Well, to be honest…' she barely shrugged, moving one shoulder up in a dismissive twitch. 'it…it really hurts. For a couple minutes, it feels like my brain's gonna explode from all the incoming information.'

M'gann's sympathy was written clearly on her face. It was hard to say for certain, but Robin suspected moisture to be gathering at the sensitive girl's eyes. Her mouth pinched, and she bit her lower lip uncertainly. 'That's terrible,' she breathed, her voice thick.

'It's not great,' she agreed dryly, 'but it goes away after a while. Kinda.'

M'gann leaned closer, noticing the girl's hesitation. 'What do you mean?' she asked softly.

The girl squirmed, obviously uncomfortable with the topic. Her eyes wandered around the room, as if she was attempting to memorize its contents. When she realized an answer couldn't be avoided, she stared at her hands, rubbing them together.

'The pain does decrease, but it still adds pressure every time,' she continued, her words disturbingly casual. 'Sometimes I wake up crying it hurts so much.'

"There's more," Batman informed the group firmly. "Tell M'gann keep digging."

This time M'gann's look of distance was followed by poorly masked confusion.

The girl swatted her caramel hair from her face. 'Don't feel bad for me though,' she reassured weakly. 'It's not like I'm dying.'

M'gann, hopefully recovered from her puzzlement resulting from Manhunter's most recent message, shook her head slowly. 'No, you shouldn't have to live with pain like that. No wonder you didn't want me to touch you.' She wrapped her arms around herself loosely. 'Hello, Megan,' she concluded halfheartedly.

The girl visibly winced, looking sharply away. Her shoulders were shaking. 'But it's…it's not just that.'

Suddenly, Robin felt a wave of guilt slam mercilessly into him. His stomach weaved itself into smaller, greasy knots. This was such a private moment. The girl was confiding in M'gann, probably the closest person to what she could consider a friend. She wasn't knowingly sharing her deepest problems with a whole other room of strangers. Frankly, she shouldn't have to.

"This is wrong," he professed, sounding more confident than his shaky nerves allowed. He glanced at his friends, who seemed to be enduring similar amounts of discomfort. Artemis had her arms crossed tightly across her chest, her face turned away from the emotional spectacle; she looked like she had accidentally bitten into a surprisingly bitter lemon. Wally was shifting from foot to foot, sending fleeting glances from face to face to screen. Kaldur was the closest to keeping his composure, but Robin could see the unnatural tension in his arms and chest as he studied the holograph.

"Robin's right." Conner began, disgusted, although Robin wasn't sure who the emotion was directed at. "We shouldn't be spying on her. It's… _invasive._ "

Unaware of the unfolding conflict, M'gann continued to try to coax an explanation out of the girl. Robin wished he could tell her to stop, but short of running to the medical bay and blowing the whole operation (as well as any trust the girl might have had toward them), it was impossible.

Realizing she was about to give in, Batman held up a hand, palm out. "Quiet. You're assessments are admirable, but the reality isn't so easy."

The girl took a deep, shuttering breath. _Oh God,_ Robin thought, visibly wincing, _she must have been crying._ Licking his lips, Robin quickly tried to reason with his mentor once more. "Batman, _please._ We shouldn't be purposefully manip-"

Batman's hand returned to his shoulder, albeit slightly gentler than the last time, and Robin clicked his mouth shut. "We can discus the morality once we've finished our observation." Batman's words were definitive, unwilling to entertain further debate. Deflated, Robin willed his eyes to return to what now resembled nothing more than a high-tech peephole.

M'gann was leaning sympathetically over the girl's quivering form, having moved from the folding chair to the edge of the bed, careful to keep the blanket between them. Robin was certain that, if not for the extenuating circumstances, she would be holding the girl in a reassuring hug. He wished she was able to.

'Listening to people's thoughts,' she sniveled, turning to face M'gann, 'hearing good people think such _horrible_ things –oh God, it's so alienating! I'm always alone!' Robin felt his stomach drop into his feet as tears ran down her cheeks. 'I've hears mothers calling their children mistakes as they read them bedtime stories, children wishing their friends were uglier or stupider or both. It's _awful.'_ She drew up her legs, burrowing her face into her knees.

'But God, learning every little detail about someone's life –every mistake, every disappointment, every perverted manipulation– I _hate_ it.' Her shoulders shook harder and Robin turned away, unable to stand the miserable sight. But there was no stopping the audio.

'Once I touch someone, they're suddenly not just some average guy!' She wrapped her arms tightly over her shins, pushing her face further in. 'Most times, they're _awful_ people, full of hateful feelings and actions. I can't stand it!' She was almost shrieking now, although most of the sound was absorbed in the fabric covering her slim legs. 'God, M'gann, I hate living like this! If that's humanity, I don't want to be apart of it anymore!'

Robin's breath caught in his throat. She couldn't be talking about…could she? Robin glanced around at his friends' faces, but except for Superboy, he found his own feelings of horror reflected in each of them.

"This is wrong," Wally squeaked, shaking his head while keeping his eyes locked to the screen.

"What does she mean?" Conner asked, his face open with confusion. Then, after noticing his friends' expressions, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What's wrong?"

"She's…" Kid Flash whispered hoarsely, but he was unable to finish the sentence.

"Suicidal." Artemis concluded, rubbing her arms up and down her exposed biceps.

Conner looked doubtful, as if assuming he misunderstood. "She…wants to kill herself?"

In the screen before them, Batman watched motionless as M'gann tried to comfort the girl. "Not necessarily," the man rumbled thoughtfully. "There's a difference between active and passive suicidal ideation. If someone is actively suicidal, it means that they have a plan to carry out their death. Passive suicidal thoughts only convey the wish to die without any plan –commonly conveyed in the hope that they will 'go to sleep and never wake up.'"

Robin shook past his horror, trying to piece together the information Batman wasn't delivering to them. "So…if she had a plan, she wouldn't have come here?"

"She wouldn't request our help if she was planning to end her life anyway," Kaldur agreed carefully.

"That's still awful," KF muttered, shivering. "Passive or active."

"Of course," Batman agreed, much to Robin's gratitude. "But it is better. Not much, but better."

"At least she is searching for help," Kaldur offered optimistically. "She still sees a way out."

"Are we done, Batman?" Manhunter asked, his voice solemn. "M'gann is unsure of where to go from here."

There was a long silence while Batman considered the question. M'gann was still trying to sooth the crumpled girl, rubbing her shoulders and back with the blanket. The frail girl sobbed uncontrollably, her head still burrowed out of sight.

"We still have yet to ask any of the most important questions…" He contended, but his tone was unsure.

"Perhaps it would be best to resume our observation at a later date?" Kaldur proposed. Robin wasn't sure he ever wanted to continue this glorified mind-fuck, but anything was better than witnessing more of the girl's trauma now.

"Understood," Batman concurred after a moment, and Robin visibly relaxed…until he realized what ending the meeting meant. Oblivious to Robin's realization, Batman dismissed the rest of the Team, requesting that Manhunter inform M'gann of their new plan. When the room was empty, Robin finally turned to face his mentor.

* * *

 **I typically don't put an ending note, but I wanted to make one thing clear: the Team's (most notably Batman's) view of suicide does not necessarily reflect my own. I've personally suffered through passive suicidal thoughts and they are no laughing matter. The idea that Batman was trying to convey is that it is easier to heal from passive thoughts than active ones, not that they are less dangerous. I just wanted to clarify that.**


	7. Perspectives

**In response to the guest reviewer: Thank you so much! I'm very glad that you enjoy my story :)**

 **Hi everyone! Turns out that that extra 30% might be becoming a normal thing, because I just topped it (*self five*)! In any case, not only did I write a three-thousand-word-plus chapter, but I also edited all of my previous chapters _and_ wrote out an outline for the entire story! Whoo! So, despite suffering some minor writer's block, I actually did pretty well (if I say so myself). Unfortunately, upon revisiting my earlier chapters, I've noticed that I make _a lot_ of typos and errors. I try to edit the chapters as best as I can before posting, but if you can, please alert me when you find them! Some of those mistakes are really annoying!**

 **Before I conclude my author's note, I want to give a very warm, heartfelt 'thank you' to everyone who reviewed/commented! The messages ALWAYS brighten my day and just make me feel really happy. So thanks for your support!**

 **In any case, enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

For the first time in years, Robin found Batman's expression to be truly unreadable. His lips were carefully neutral, not pinched in stress or curled in anger. His jaw was slightly loose and his stance reminded Robin of a particularly boring mannequin, one that was sporting the latest Batman style! Robin smothered a laugh at the thought; _so_ not the time.

Suiting his appearance, Batman kept his voice even. "How much does she know?"

Tentatively, Robin took his neutral tone as a good sign. After all, exposing all of the Dark Knight's secrets while disobeying a direct order was surely more than enough to send the man on a rampage…yet Bruce didn't even seem to be angry. True, he didn't seem to be anything _else_ either, but that still had to be a good sign.

Right?

Even without the expected anger, Robin still found the question unnerving. Manhunter had already explained the situation to both Batman and the entire Team before beginning their "observation" of the girl, conveying both his and Robin's understanding of their current position. It didn't make sense that Batman also needed to hear it directly from Robin; but then again, nothing in the last twelve hours had made much sense.

Robin resisted the urge to lick his suddenly dry lips despite knowing that the effort was pointless; unlike his mentor, keeping his feelings from displaying themselves brightly on his face was not one of his talents. Robin bitterly cursed his expressive nature; his whole body was probably screaming just how high-strung his nerves were!

"She knows everything," he replied, staring coolly at his shoes. "Who you are, who I am, who everyone on the Team is, who half the people on the League are…" Robin hunched his shoulders, guilt boiling inside him as he spoke. Everyone had trusted him with so much, and in an instant he had given all of those secrets away to a stranger. He never expected to be in this situation, to be the weak link in the long chain of League and Team members. Not him. _Never._

He shook his head, his voice barely above a mumble. "Everything I know, she knows. _Everything,_ Batman _._ " Robin couldn't bring himself to look up at the hero before him. He couldn't stand to see the disappointment. The regret. He just…couldn't.

Robin heard the Knight shift before him but kept his eyes stubbornly locked his sneakers; black with white tips and checkered shoelaces –as if that mattered. "You're positive?" the man rumbled.

The Boy Wonder snorted self-deprecatingly, scowling. "Just about. I must've asked her a million questions about the League." For a moment, Robin looked up, his eyes swerving to the right in recollection. "Like…why the Flash needs to eat so often and where the real base of the Justice League is. She…" he shrugged halfheartedly, hoping no tears would physically materialize, "She got 'em all right." His voice was airy, a result from the undercurrent of emotions he was failing to suppress. It almost sounded like he was trying to whisper and speak normally at the same time. "I'm sorry, Batman. I really am."

Wondering about the impact of his apology, the boy glanced hesitantly to his guardian, whose mouth was now set in a hard line. _Oh God,_ he thought semi-frantically, _here it comes._ Robin attempted to mentally prepare himself, but instead of flying into a rage-lecture hybrid, Batman kept his voice as even as ever. "That doesn't prove anything. She could've been listening to your thoughts for the answers."

Robin nodded understandingly, his lips stretched in a thin smile. "My thoughts exactly," he said, adding nervously, "…at least after a while." Robin shifted his gaze to the side, away from Batman. Unconsciously, he folded his arms over his chest, an old protective instinct developed in the early days of humanity. "So, I asked her to tell me something only I would know. You know, like a memory or something."

After a moment of silence, Batman asked the question Robin was both expecting and dreading; "And?"

Robin took a deep breath, still unable to look directly at his mentor. "Well," he began, releasing tight, mirthless chuckles, "she certainly did not disappoint." He could tell that his shaky smile was slipping, but he was unable to stop it. "I mean, she told me stuff that I had forgotten I knew!" He ran his quaking hands tough his obsidian hair, trying to mask the shivers running through his body. He couldn't stop his stress-induced chuckles from escaping his lips, where they echoed eerily throughout the chamber. "Do you know how weird it is to have a total stranger tell you stories about yourself that you barely even remember? _Very."_

Out of the corner of his eye, Robin could see Batman shift slightly, but he still didn't look directly at him. The older man cleared his throat. "How have you been dealing with the situation?"

Solutions: that was something Robin could handle. "Well," he began, uncrossing his arms and letting them drop to his sides. His voice already sounded steadier from the change of topic. "I haven't really done anything yet. Martian Manhunter wanted to talk to you before assigning us with anything related to the girl, but if you give me the go-ahead I can…"

Robin's voice faded as Batman advanced toward him, clasping both his shoulders in a strong grip. Surprised, the boy looked up, eyes searching Batman's face. He looked pensive…or maybe…concerned? "Batman…?" He asked brilliantly, unsure of what else to do.

The man's eyes stared firmly into Robin's, resolute. "Robin, I don't mean what you've done to fix the situation," he elaborated unhelpfully. His lips tightened, before adding, "Frankly, I'm not sure there's anything that _can_ be done."

"Okay," Robin agreed automatically, ignoring his dry throat. He wasn't sure why Batman had delivered this information in such a strange and intimate way. It made him feel weirdly exposed, like his shades had suddenly evaporated from his face. This wasn't how Batman acted around Robin; this was Bruce talking to Dick.

Batman's lip twitched at the response, but he kept his serious composure. "I'm _trying_ to ask how you've been handling the situation. _Personally._ " At this distance, Robin could just barely see Batman's eyes searching from behind the lenses.

Robin knew he was missing something important. "Personally?" he repeated dumbly.

Batman stared at the boy a couple of moments longer, before asking in a barely audible whisper, "Dick, are you okay?"

Robin barely kept his jaw from dropping. He had just revealed every secret Batman held most dear, and the guy was asking _him_ if _he_ was okay? And with his real name too!

"Yes," Dick lied automatically, but after a squeeze on his shoulders and the continuation of Batman's steady gaze, he buckled. Flicking his eyes away, he muttered, "Okay, so maybe not."

"Robin," Batman assured slowly, "no one blames you for revealing their secrets."

A single harsh chuckle burst form his lips. "Yeah, well no one outside of the Cave knows yet either, and I'm not so sure how those inside feel anyway."

Batman straightened, although he kept his hold on his ward. "You were saving a life. There was no way you could've known."

"Yeah right!" Robin retorted hotly, bursting unexpectedly from his grip. "She had only rammed her thoughts so hard into my head that I passed out! It would've taken a _genius_ to guess that she might've had some mental abilities!" He backed away as he spoke, stopping only a foot from the wall. His chest was heaving, arms stiff and trembling near his sides. His body was preparing itself for a physical fight when an emotional one was already raging inside of him.

"Doesn't matter. You did the right thing."

Dick rolled his eyes, although he wasn't sure the expression made it past his shades. "Yeah? I'd like to see you explain how one girl's life is more important than the entire security of the League."

Batman launched forward, slamming the side of his fist into the wall far above Robin's head. Startled, Robin jolted, staring wide-eyed at the ferocious man hovering over him. "Of _course_ it is, God damn it! The League _exists_ to protect people! How could you even _begin_ to think that it would be better to let an innocent child die just to save our own asses!"

Robin was speechless, mouth open wide but producing no words. This wasn't what he had expected. Batman…wasn't disappointed? He wasn't going to give his patented "I expect better from you" speech? What the hell was going on? At a loss for words, Robin asked, "You're not mad?"

Seeing Robin's intense reaction, Batman took a few steps back, breathing slowly. "Of course I'm mad," he said smoothly. "It's infuriating that our secrets are now in a stranger's hands. But that doesn't mean I'm mad at _you_."

Robin's jaw dropped father; he estimated it to be somewhere around his knees by now. "But you-" he sputtered, "during the meeting, you…and everyone else…"

Batman blinked, uncomprehending. "I'm not following."

Robin stared at his mentor as if he had grown another head. "You grabbed my shoulder! Twice! And you would let me walk away!"

The Knight jerked, seeming stunned by his ward's words. "I was being reassuring."

"Are you kidding?" Robin wheezed, his eyebrows meeting his hairline. "I thought you were furious!"

Batman stared at Dick, unmoving. "I was."

Robin's face split into a grin, an insane giggle rise in his throat. "Yeah, but not at _me!"_

"Correct."

Laughter erupted inside Robin, both from relaxing his shot nerves and Batman's unwittingly hilarious behavior. Even after hearing it straight from the Bat's mouth, Robin still found it unbelievable. He had spent the last hour tying his mind into panicked knots as his mentor loomed over him like the freaking Grim Reaper! And that was Bruce trying to _reassure_ him? Robin couldn't think of anything less reassuring in his life! "Unbelievable!" he hooted, moisture blurring his vision. Robin clutched his sides, gasping to regain his breath. "You're emotionally stunted," he said between wheezes, "you know that?"

Batman grunted, but he couldn't hide the amusement plucking at his lips.

l-l-l

Bruce stepped out of the Batmobile, barely registering the fluttering sounds of bats in the distance. He shed his cowl, which left his hair sticking up like a schoolboy's, and set it down on his desk next to the keyboard. Taking a seat, he gazed up at the holographic computer screen, his tired face bathed in its greenish light. After pulling an all-nighter tracking down and apprehending Deathstroke (unsuccessfully, no less), Bruce had planned to catch up on some much needed sleep before his weekend evaporated entirely.

Unfortunately, his weekend plan hadn't accounted for Robin stumbling upon an out-of-control mind-reader that same night, who now knew many of his –and the League's- most well kept secrets. In fact, his _life_ plan hadn't accounted for anything so preposterous! Sure, he had contingency plans in case one of the League's mind-readers went rogue and he knew how to adapt to dangers like Psimon, but even he couldn't have foreseen this catastrophe.

Despite having it confirmed by both J'onn and Dick, Bruce could barely believe the situation he was in. Honestly, how could anyone possess the ability to absorb someone's entire life story just by touching them? And this child, who looked to be just a few years older than Dick, had done exactly that -while unconscious! It shouldn't be possible –yet here she was.

For the thousandth time, Bruce cursed himself for pulling Robin from the Team's mission. If he hadn't, Robin never would've been on that street corner in the first place and this whole disaster could have been averted. Despite his hindsight being 20/20, the decision had made perfect sense at the time. He had gotten word of some drug gang gaining ground in the area, and with him so close to finding Deathstroke, he had needed some backup to gather intel and hopefully scare them off. If it hadn't been for the Team's mission, he would've gotten the entire group to cover it, but they were needed elsewhere and Robin had been more than capable at handling it on his own.

Not that any gang ever actually _showed up._ But again, this was all hindsight.

Bruce knew that their predicament wasn't Robin's fault. Even though it was obvious the girl had some mental talents, no one could've foreseen the dangers of touching her. He had acted to save a life…which was why their conversation in the Cave was so disturbing.

It was Batman's job to keep an eye on the big picture, to make the hard calls no one else liked to make. It was part of his official role as the supervisor of the Team and often his unofficial responsibility in the League. So, no: if he had known everything he does now, if it had been his call to save the girl or keep the League's secrets, he wasn't sure he would've made the same choice Robin did. He wasn't sure he could risk everything to save one girl.

But Robin wasn't like Batman, and Bruce was thankful everyday that that was the case. Robin would always strive to save every life, to help everyone he could, no matter the cost. He was eternally optimistic, refusing to settle for the dismal reality Bruce had accepted as a child. Over all, the boy had kept his trust in humanity despite fighting its worst for four years.

Then why had Robin felt so much regret?

Being upset at the situation was one thing, but Robin wasn't just feeling distressed or scared; he was actually _regretting_ saving the girl's life! Bruce couldn't deny that the cost of doing so had been high, but even that shouldn't have affect Dick to the extent Bruce had witnessed in the meeting room. He should've been defending his actions, arguing that it was his job as a hero, reminding Bruce that the girl could be an incredible addition to the superhero community. For the most part, he should've been saying exactly what Bruce had.

Which was why Bruce had to say it. Anything to keep Robin from becoming Batman; anything to keep Dick from becoming Bruce.

"Home so soon, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked lightly, coming to a stop behind him. Bruce swiveled his chair to face the man, smiling tiredly. The old Englishman looked as impeccable as ever, standing briskly before his employer.

Alfred smiled quietly back. "I wasn't expecting you and Master Dick to return until dinner." The butler looked around pointedly, as if just realizing his companion was missing. "If I may ask, where is Young Master Richard?"

"After I assigned the investigation to the Team, he wanted to stay," Bruce explained, removing his gauntlets before passing them to the expectant butler, "try to get a head start on researching our mystery girl."

The man nodded as he gathered the discarded cowl as well. "I take it your talk went well then?"

Bruce sighed, peaking Alfred's interest. The butler finished folding the collected items, setting them down on the corner of the desk. "Yes and no," the man admitted reluctantly.

"How so, sir?"

Bruce bent in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees as he ran his hands through his hair. "Dick confirmed that she knows everything he does, but there was no way for him to have known about the girl's abilities, which makes him unaccountable for the repercussions," Bruce stated, obviously more troubled than the announcement warranted.

Alfred nodded, adding, "I should hope not, sir."

Bruce pinched his lips together. "So the usual lecture about being more responsible and observant, always staying one step ahead…" Bruce shrugged, a slightly awkward motion in his current position. "It didn't apply."

Alfred nodded ever so slightly. "Something for which I'm sure Master Dick was profoundly grateful."

Bruce straightened in his chair, giving a tired, loose gesture with one hand. "He _should_ have been, but he isn't thinking rationally. He blames himself, says he should've known about the girl's powers."

"Unnecessary guilt is always a shame, Master Bruce," Alfred responded smoothly, eyeing a noticeably deep cut below Bruce's right eye, "but it's not an altogether unheard of response among those in your profession." He paused, walking a few paces away to retrieve the first aid kit. "Especially when faced with an unfavorable outcome."

Bruce shook his head, although the gesture was unseen behind Alfred's turned back. "It's not only that," he articulated, frustrated at the predicament. "He regrets it Alfred; saving the girl's life at the cost of our secrets." Alfred turned, kit in hand, to see Bruce's shoulders slump forward. "Dick shouldn't be thinking like that."

Alfred pursed his lips, disturbed by his friend's words. "Perhaps, sir," he replied gently, "he is simply taking from your example."

Bruce groaned, running a hand over his face, shielding his eyes. "I know. God, you should've heard him, Alfred! He sounded like me –and not a pleasant side of me either."

Alfred pulled up a small, wheeled table, opening the medical kit on top of it. "You're scared the boy is turning into you," he murmured, understanding.

Bruce was silent for a moment, but he couldn't hide his fear. "Yes."

"That's very admirable of you, sir," Alfred rebounded definitively, removing Bruce's hand from his face, "but I doubt there is any cause for such concern."

Unshielded, Bruce studied Alfred's face as he disinfected the cut. "How so?"

Alfred paused, his tips tight in a kind smile. "Because he has you to stop him, Master Bruce," he revealed softly before resuming his work. "Master Dick, both as Robin and as Bruce Wayne's ward, is a naturally hopeful boy, and he does not yield when it comes to his morals." The butler stood, gathering the supplies needed for medical stitches from within the case. With the tools in hand, he turned, locking eyes with his companion. "As long as Batman continues to exist as Batman, so will Robin; I haven't any doubt."


	8. Revelations

Hello! Thank you to everyone who favorited/followed/reviewed this story! I'm always super elated when I get a new notification from Fanfiction, and it helps motivate me to keep writing! For this chapter more than ever, I would really appreciate some feedback. There's a couple things I'm unsure about (which I'll address in the ending AN), so I would like to know what you guys think.

Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

It had been two months since the girl's arrival, and despite her origins remaining as mysterious as ever, a sense of normalcy had returned to Mount Justice. This reprieve was mostly thanks to Wally and M'gann, who (after weeks of trial and error) finally engineered a way for the teen to control her powers. With a combination of a custom-tailored inhibitor collar designed to look like a silver choker necklace and a modified full-body spandex suit, she was able to step out of the medical bay for the first time since her arrival.

Even after all that had happened, Robin could feel himself naturally beginning to trust her. After all, she hadn't given him or anyone else any reason to doubt her motives, despite having free-run of the Cave for over a month. She followed the rules to a tee, always grateful and accepting. She only removed her collar while she slept, never forgetting to flip what was called the "Inhibitor Alarm," a small switch that activated red lights at the entrance of the medical bay and the east wing as a signal that she was collarless. At first, she hadn't ever wanted to remove it, but after suffering from some severe headaches, Manhunter had become concerned that constraining her mind 24/7 was damaging her psyche. Unable to find a better solution, she had agreed to their current system.

The spandex was also a welcome improvement, both for her and the Team. She no longer had to worry about accidentally brushing up against someone in passing, and they could finally begin to relax around her, knowing a touch wouldn't reveal their every secret. She had been given twelve of the suits, all black, which covered her entire body up to under her jaw. She was also given a mask that covered her exposed head, but the attachment was typically unnecessary and thus went largely unused (after gaining approval from Batman and Red Tornado). Wally had made sure the material was breathable and tear-resistant, while also keeping it solid enough to prevent her touch-based abilities. After she tried it on, the first thing she did was hug the boy in gratitude, which caused the redhead's ears to turn a surprisingly vibrant shade of pink.

A couple days later, upon the girl's hesitant request, Artemis and M'gann had bought some clothes for her to wear over it. The clothes –mostly jeans and a few neutral T-Shirts– were her final transformation from the scared, sick girl she arrived as. It had only been a couple months, but she had successfully regained her strength, her freedom, and to a certain degree, her confidence.

As time continued to pass and it became clearer that she wasn't some evil infiltrator sent by God-only-knows who, the Team had gradually accepted her as another member. Of course, she never joined them on missions and didn't receive any of the top-secret info delivered by Batman, but she did become an active part of their lives in the Cave.

In her typical style, she accepted her role as a type of "inactive member," a semi-permanent guest among residents. She never knew where the Team was being assigned, but she still sent them off with a wave and a call of "Good luck!" She never participated in their training secessions with Black Canary, but she still attended, albeit sometimes with a barrowed laptop or book in hand.

So, when she showed up to the current training session with one of Artemis' old history textbooks, no one questioned her presence. Other than giving the Team members observing Conner and Kaldur's sparring match a quick wave, she didn't call attention to herself, opting instead to sit down on the floor on the opposite side. She watched the match intently for a few minutes, impressed by her new friends' skills. Both boys were panting slightly, completely focused on bringing their opponent down.

The girl's heart sped up as Superboy suddenly dashed forward, feinting to the right with his fist before dropping down to deliver a leg sweep to his left. Aqualad reacted expertly, hopping to miss the leg while gripping the extended wrist. Unfortunately for the Atlantean, Superboy twisted out of the grasp before Aqualad could establish a restraining hold, forcing both boys to temporarily retreat while they each tried to strategize a way to victory. Predicting that this fight would probably last at least another ten minutes, the girl nodded to herself, popping the book open and beginning to read.

Between learning about President Kennedy and the Cuban Missile Crisis, the girl absentmindedly overheard Canary's instructions. Most of them were calls to "stop leaving yourself so open!" or to "quit dancing and bring him down!" but there were also sparely distributed words of praise and even encouragement. The girl had just gotten to a section cryptically titled "A Bad Situation Gets Worse" when Canary's calls become more intense.

"Strike while he's open, Superboy!" the girl heard vaguely, as if she were underwater. The fight was ramping up to a close, and she would look up just as soon as she found out about Khrushchev's response to the barricade…"Use his momentum against him, Aqualad!" Canary continued to order. "Nice execution! Now use his energy to- WATCH OUT!"

Startled by the urgency in Canary's voice, the girl looked up immediately, only to see an air-born Superboy barreling toward her. Without thinking, the girl discarded the book, propelling her legs above her and into a backward roll. Once most of her body was clear of her head, she used her arms to push off the floor, propelling herself in an arc into a standing position, which turned into a single back handspring. Dizzy and unable to stop her momentum, she stumbled back, crashing forcefully into the wall behind her. A few seconds later, Conner landed heavily into the space she had previously occupied with a grunt.

The clone picked himself up, noticing the girl in the process. "Hey, when did you get here?" he asked casually, oblivious to the situation. The girl smiled weakly, but Conner noticed her pallid complexion. She was tottering faintly from the unexpected feat, battling her stomach's wish to forcefully empty itself all over the floor. "Whoa," he added, studying her shaky condition. "What happened to you?"

Aqualad, who had seen his mistake immediately after launching Superboy, hurried over. "I am afraid that I caused this," the Atlantean admitted to the confused boy. "I had not noticed her arrival and accidentally threw you directly at her location." He turned to the pale girl, dipping in a slight bow. "Please accept my apologies. I should have been more observant."

The girl shook her head, ignoring the fresh wave of nausea it caused. "Don't worry about it," she assured, still panting slightly. "I should've been paying closer attention." She glanced at Conner's landing spot, realizing how close she had been to the sparring ring. "Next time I'll sit more than a foot away from the fight."

By this time, the rest of the Team had come over, headed by Robin. He was smiling, although it was a strange combination of enthused and concerned. "Hey," he said, touching her arm lightly. "That was incredible, but I think you forgot to breathe."

The girl smiled weakly, taking a few deep breaths. Slowly, the nausea and dizziness receded. When she looked stable, Wally decided that he couldn't hold back any longer.

"Hey, I didn't know we had another acrobat in the house!" he exclaimed, wrapping an arm around the young boy's shoulders.

She shrugged, uncomfortable with the sudden attention. "Yeah," she replied, smiling nervously. "You and me both." She scratched the back of her neck, feeling her cheeks flush with the attention. Attempting to downplay the situation, she murmured, "I just saw Conner coming at me and I…really didn't want to stay there." Realizing how poorly worded her explanation was, her cheeks flushed brighter.

Before she could clarify her phrasing, Artemis tilted her head back, howling with laughter, while Conner blushed faintly. Robin's grin suddenly took on a more devious glint, but Black Canary cut in before he could comment.

"That was impressive," she remarked as she advanced, the teens making way for her like the Red Sea for Moses. Her eyes grazed over the girl, calculating. "Where'd you learn moves like that?"

The girl shifted under Canary's intense gaze, suddenly wondering if being slammed by Conner would've been so bad. "I dunno," she answered truthfully, giving a small apologetic smile. "Honestly, I'm not even sure if I'd be able to do it again."

Straining under the Leaguer's focus, the girl glanced fleetingly at the teens around her, unsure of what else to say. Robin was still grinning a little weirdly, but Canary's next words never gave the girl a chance to wonder why.

"Let's find out."

The girl's olive eyes snapped to the Leaguer's, a slight fluttering in her chest. There was no way Canary was suggesting a fight…was there? The girl was barely back at full health, and even then her muscles were soft from her time on bed rest. Not to mention she didn't know _anything_ about combat, except maybe a couple techniques from observing the Team and a few defensive maneuvers locked deep within her mind, which she hadn't even known about until Superboy had almost flattened her. Those skills –if she could even call them that– would be about as effective against Canary as papier-mâché armor would be in an atomic explosion. Even the Young Justice members would have little chance against a fully-fledged Leaguer –and most of them had been training for years or could lift a fourteen-wheeler easier than she could lift a dictionary! Fighting a League member would be suicide!

"Come on," Canary called encouragingly, backing up so that she was once again in the glowing sparring space. "Don't worry, I'll go easy on you," she promised, raising her fists into a loose fighting stance. "I just wanna see what other gems might be hiding in that brain of yours."

The girl looked wildly across the teens' faces, praying they also saw the insanity of her situation. Much to her relief, Wally and M'gann looked about as uneasy as she felt, while the rest just seemed surprised. Robin's lips were pursed in thought, and the girl couldn't help but think that he was imagining just how bad her ass was about to get whooped. After accepting that no one was going to protest Canary's instructions, she hesitantly entered the space. Distantly, she heard Wally quietly ask Robin, "Uh, is this a good idea?"

The girl stood in the sharp white light, feeling foolish and out of place. She thought M'gann might've called some words of encouragement, but she couldn't be sure over the roaring in her ears. Canary pointedly tapped her face, signaling the girl to don her mask. Her throat suddenly tight, the girl tried to reason her way out of the situation. "I really don't think there's anything more to find," she said in an embarrassingly small voice, reluctantly fishing the hood out of her pocket and pulling it on. "I'm pretty sure that that was just a one time –AH!"

Canary's fist came at her face with incredible speed, forcing the girl to dance awkwardly to the side, the blow missing by millimeters. She opened her mouth to try to reason with the instructor again, but only yelped as she dodged another fist flying in her direction.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Team was getting anxious. The girl was reacting like an untrained civilian, and although Canary was obviously pulling her punches, they knew how painful sparring with the Leaguer could be. As the girl narrowly missed more and more strikes, they became more confident that the girl was right about not having "anything more to find."

"This isn't working," Conner announced loudly, just in time for the girl to gracelessly dodge a kick to the gut. The following punch, aimed at her solar plexus, glanced off her hip as she lunged to the side, panting heavily. The girl winced, absentmindedly holding the aching joint, before scrambling back to avoid a kick aimed at her nose.

"Yeah," the frantic girl wheezed, "No kidding!"

Ignoring the conversation, Canary rushed her opponent, gracefully sliding behind her. Before the girl had a chance to react, her legs were swept out from under her, strong hands gripping her waist.

Aqualad took a step forward, raising an arm as if to halt the attacking woman. "Perhaps if we-"

As if totally oblivious to Kaldur's presence, Canary effortless lifted the petrified girl into the air, releasing her upside down into a high throw over her back. M'gann shrieked, gripping Artemis' bicep in terror. Wally clamped his eyes shut, waiting for the painful _thud_ of an inexperienced landing…

Which never came.

Without missing a beat, the girl used her height and advantageous position to push off of Canary's back like a pommel horse, turning her body as if in a cartwheel. Controlling her momentum perfectly, she tucked herself into a tight backflip, landing lightly on her feet.

Black Canary stumbled forward, an approving grin splitting her face. She turned to the girl, her eyes gleaming. "Nothing to find, huh?" she questioned knowingly, an edgy hand placed on her popped hip.

The teen stared at the Leaguer, dumbfounded at her own actions while she struggled to catch her breath. "I…" she began numbly before catching her mask underneath her chin and removing it. Her face was bright red with exertion, her eye wide from the lingering adrenaline. "I'm not…"

"That was incredible!" Robin interjected, racing forward and giving the girl's shoulder an enthusiastic thwack. "You just did a Tsukhara vault –off of Black Canary's friggin' _back!_ Totally cool!"

The girl smiled, leaning her palms on her knees as she tried to slow her thready heartbeat. "Too-ka…what-a?" she asked between puffs.

"Tsukhara," Robin corrected. "It's named after a Japanese gymnast from the 70s, and not the easiest move either."

"Who cares what it's called!" Artemis exclaimed, elbowing the boy good-naturedly in the side. "That was too cool."

The girl straightened, observing the congratulatory smiled around her. To be here, surrounded by other "different" teens, not having to cower in fear at every touch or share her mind with everyone around her…it was like a dream. For the first time she could remember, she was actually happy instead of just making the best of a bad situation. For the first time she could remember, her future looked bright enough to strive for. Her life was finally worth living.

Her throat suddenly tight, she said all she could manage:

"Thanks."

l-l-l

Even to Conner's enhanced hearing, the Cave was eerily quiet as he wondered throughout the darkened halls. The mountain's typical residential count was down by half that night: Red Tornado had left less than an hour ago to take care of some mysterious "League business" and M'gann's mental training session with her Uncle J'onn was running late.

So here he was, eleven at night on a Tuesday with only the cold mountain walls and the faint glow of the Inhibitor Alarm to keep him company.

It was just so _boring._ Maybe he would have appreciated this alone time at the beginning of his career with the Team, but now he was used to the constant activity and missed its absence… _her_ absence. M'gann usually back from training by 10:20, 10:40 at the latest. Where could she possibly be?

Annoyed, Conner glanced up at the east wing entrance, his face bathed in the hazy red light. It had been a little more than two months now since the girl had arrived, yet Conner still couldn't help but feel uneasy around her. He knew that his doubt was largely unfounded –she had been nothing except totally friendly toward him and everyone else– but he couldn't quite shake his agitation. It was something about how she had just shown up out of nowhere, just _happened_ to appear in Gotham, just _happened_ to come across Robin, just _happened_ to fit in so well with the Team…

Conner shook his head, trying to clear it. Why was he worrying himself so much? If anything about the girl were worthy of suspicion, someone else on the Team would've already pointed it out. Someone who had some brains with their brawn, like Kaldur or Robin –hell, even Batman himself! But they all seemed to trust her –except possibly Batman, but who knew what that man was ever thinking –and that should've been enough for Conner. He should've been able to naturally follow their lead and trust her too.

So why couldn't he?

The boy turned to enter the kitchen, thinking maybe he could waste some time fixing himself a snack, but stopped cold when a horrific scream cut the silence. Conner's breath hitched, the hair on his neck and arms standing on end like needles. Turning back around, he paused in front of the glowing entrance. Without the collar on, she would be able to get into his head, into his _thoughts._ If he entered the east wing, his mind would be about as safe as a nine-year-old's diary left open on her parent's bed.

And God, did he _hate it_ when people poked around in his brain.

Another wail crashed though the halls, interrupting his internal debate, followed by desperate calls of "Let me go!" and "Someone help me!" Conner eyes widened with shock.

Someone was in the Cave.

Someone was _in the Cave!_

Superboy plunged down the hallway, running as fast as he could toward the girl's pleading voice. Thankful Red Tornado had ordered he wear his communicator while he was alone in the Cave, Conner tapped the small device in his ear.

"Superboy to Team, Superboy to Team," he announced, trying to keep his voice low enough so that he wouldn't alert the intruder. Adrenaline pumped through his limbs, making his heart roar in his ears. "Come on, guys, pick up will ya?" he broadcasted, letting his fear-driven frustration wind through his voice.

 _"This is Miss Martian,"_ the missing girl replied, concern evident in her voice. _"What's wrong, Superboy?"_

He turned down the last hall, finally spotting the doors. "There's an intruder in the Cave's medical bay, possibly more than one, identity unknown," he listed, hoping he could be heard over the girl's cries. "Requesting immediate backup!"

Bursting through the door, he was immediately tackled to the ground by the girl's lithe form.

* * *

 **Sorry (kinda) for the cliffhanger!**

 **So, like I said in the previous AN, I'd like to get your feedback on a few elements of this chapter.**

 **The first is the pacing. I was not going to have such a large time jump and instead spend some time detailing the research and collar/suit creation, but after reading some of the past reviews I was getting scared that my story was too slow. I could still go back and write an inbetween chapter, but I'd like to know if anyone thinks that would be beneficial first.**

 **The second is Black Canary's representation. I think I might've based her a little too much off of the Justice League's version, making her too brisk and fighty. In YJ she's much more thoughtful and understanding, and I'm not sure I captured that. Any thoughts?**

 **The third is the girl's acceptance. I'm scared that the group took to her a little too quickly, and that it seems unnatural. I tried to build up to this the best I could (mostly via the team pitying her during the observation), and it's not like they totally trust her or anything, but still. If it does seem unnatural, the inbetween chapter could help to fix that, but I want to see if anyone else thinks it's a problem first.**

 **The fourth and last element is the fighting. Full disclosure: I have absolutely zero experience in any form of fighting or gymnastics, so this type of fighting is always really hard for me to write. I did base the girl's move on Black Canary off a real thing (just search Youtube for Tsukhara vault), but it still might be a little too clunky. I'm just not sure.**

 **Thanks for reading, and I'm looking forward to your thoughts!**


	9. Histories

**Happy Holidays everyone! For the first year, my mom and I are trying to make our own Christmas and Hanukkah decorations (multi-faith family), and so it's been because of that that this update had been a little delayed (although the decorations are actually looking pretty great, so I'm happy!). Additionally, this chapter was hard to write because 1) I decided it was long past time to give the girl a name 2) I had some details I needed to work out about Connor's situation and 3) I needed to include Dick's prov as well. So this chapter is split into thirds, with the girl, Connor and Dick each receiving space for their own prov. It's also bigger than any of my other chapters, so yay!**

 **I want to give a huge thank you to HeroUp88! She has provided me with a very insightful review for every one of my chapters, and I use her comments to make sure my story's unfolding the way I want it to. Thanks so much!**

 **Also, I don't usually do warnings, but this chapter has some pretty nasty language, provided largely by Connor. I don't know why, but I always pictured him with having a pretty bad mouth...**

 **In any case, enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

 _A few hours earlier:_

The girl stared at the last few words, an emotional whirlwind raging inside of her. She felt like she had just completed such an important journey, despite the distinct absence of plot or even a real victory. After all, all of the creatures and bizarre situations were only part of Alice's dream. They mattered, but their importance only really applied to Alice.

In a strange way (although for such a strange novel she supposed that made sense), the girl could relate to the young protagonist. While Alice was unable to control the rapidly changing size of her body, the girl was powerless over her ability to absorb thoughts and stories; she even struggled to control her own actions, as her sudden acrobatic capabilities proved. Beyond that, both girls struggled with their identities, with Alice often repeating something the girl wondered constantly: "Who in the world am I?" Most importantly, however, was that Alice was subjected to a world outside of logic and common sense, a world the girl repeatedly experienced when she was forced to witness the thoughts of everyone around her.

For all of her life, the girl was forced to live in a relatively insane reality. The world, which was seen as a cohesive unit for everyone else, was presented to her in distinct three lenses: one of uncontrollable thoughts, one of careful words, and one of physical actions. This circumstance alone was manageable enough; it was the fact that the lenses almost never seemed to match up that fueled its insanity. The contradictions between the lenses were enough to make her feel like she was going crazy; or worse, like she was the only sane person left in an insane world.

Just like Alice, she had been trapped in her own personal Wonderland. And now, she had finally woken up!

The girl closed the book, staring at its vintage cover. Her fingers dusted over the image of little Alice as she stood in front of the roaring Queen of Hearts, with solder-cards looking on behind them. The girl smiled slightly; despite their similar circumstances, they certainly didn't share much in looks. The Alice depicted in front of her was like a little dainty doll, her skin smooth like porcelain and her golden hair pushed up with a baby blue bow; the picturesque little girl, if there ever was one.

The nameless girl, on the other hand, was almost exactly the opposite. Her brown hair was the color of mud, her skin a sickly frosted white. Her biceps were covered with tiny scars, most likely from nervously scratching at her arms, a habit she couldn't remember forming. Despite having gained a lot of needed weight since her arrival, her ribs were still visible through her spandex, which was part of the reason she had requested clothes to go over it. Her vomit-colored eyes sat in deep bags, like spoiled eggs in nests the color of bruises. If Alice was the perfect little doll, she was the angst girl who plucked off its legs and shaved it bald.

Still, the girl felt an odd little connection to the fictional child, a weird kinship of some sort. Both of their journeys were so full of insanity and mayhem, and both of them so desperately wanted to understand who they really were. And although the girl had to a certain extent "awoken" with the help of her suit and collar, she would never truly be out of Wonderland until these powers were gone forever.

So maybe she just needed to be a little bit more like Alice. Maybe she needed to somehow outgrow the nonsense, find her own way to declare, "You're nothing but a pack of cards!" But what exactly did that mean, here in the real world, outside of Lewis Carroll's whimsical tale?

She glanced at the baby names book by her bedside, a gift she had received from Black Canary during one of their many talks. Once again, her words echoed in the girl's head; _"Just because you don't remember your name doesn't mean you can't make yourself a new one. Lots of people here, Megan and Conner for example, pick their own names when they join the Team or the League. After all, a rose is a rose, right?"_

After overcoming her initial confusion (and making a mental note to start reading Shakespeare), it had startled the girl to hear Canary so easily dismiss the importance of names. Not being able to remember her own was such a huge part of the girl's identity, another giant hole in who she truly was. Her name represented her missing life, the girl with a history and friends and hobbies and dreams that she had once been –and possibly could be again. But maybe, by placing so much importance on a name she could not remember, she was just playing into the world's insanity.

Maybe this was her chance to be Alice –literally.

The thought was surprisingly appealing. After all, she did need a name. The girl was getting tired of not realizing when people were trying to get her attention, and she felt responsible for the awkwardness after someone uttered "Hey…uh… _you_." After more than two months, the fact that she was still nameless was getting ridiculous, another bizarre aspect of her stay in Wonderland. Not to mention that nothing in the baby-naming book had really jumped out at her, despite spending hours looking through the thing with what she assured Canary was an "open mind."

Plus, she liked the name Alice. It was pretty yet strong, and it rolled off her tongue pleasantly when she tried it out in the empty medical bay. "Alice," she tested again, this time louder, admittedly feeling a little foolish. A smile spread across her face as she imagined her friends using the name too. "Hey, Alice!"

Pleased with the sound, she leaned back on her pillows, sighing as her muscles relaxed further into the bed. She typically didn't fall asleep until eleven or twelve, but soon after Red Tornado had come in to tell her he was leaving, she had felt inexplicitly tired. Through pure determination, the girl had managed to finish the last few chapters of the book, but now that it was over her body was begging for sleep at only 10:15 pm. More than anything, she wanted to hop out of bed and tell Conner her new name –although she could tell the boy didn't completely trust or like her yet– but she was just so God damn _tired._ Her eyelids drooped heavily, and she snuggled under further underneath the covers. Surrendering to sleep's heavy lull, she let her eyes fall shut.

 _…I can always tell them in the morning._

l-l-l

In any other situation, it would've taken a lot more than a one-hundred-and-nothing pound girl to topple the Kryptonian over, but in Conner's defense, this hadn't been what he had expected. Gone were the screams of terror, the wails for help, the sheer powerlessness in her voice. Gone was the thankful, shy girl everyone had trusted so easily.

Gone was any fucking _shred_ of companionship or goodwill Conner might've felt toward the girl. As she snarled rabidly over him, her jaws snapping toward his face like a bloodthirsty animal's maw, it was all so fucking completely _gone!_

In any other circumstance, even with the surprise attack, it would have been laughably easy restrain the girl; just flip her over and put a knee in her back or twist her arm up into her shoulder blade –hell, even a quick punch to the head would've done the trick. It would've been so easy, except she wasn't wearing her full-body suit, so he _couldn't fucking touch her._

As it was, he had been barely quick enough to grab her pajama-covered forearms as she lunged at him, which was part of the reason he hadn't been able to keep his balance and had stumbled over backward like an idiot. And now he was in quite the pickle, since the only thing keeping the snarling girl above him from reading his every thought _ever_ was his grip on her arms, which left him with no options as how to safely push her off.

And with no options left, the situation was getting dire. Her wrists twisted savagely, likely rubbing the skin beneath his grip raw, her bare fingers dancing less than an inch from his exposed forearm. Worse still, her face was coming closer and closer to his, her mouth frothing crazily, her seaweed eyes blank and feral and frigid. She kept contorting her arms in different ways, popping her shoulders in and out, her nose just a hair's width from his…

He turned his head to the side, trying to buy some time, which only intensified her insane fever. "What the hell are you doing?" he roared, anger and no small amount of fear blossoming in his chest. "God dammit! I knew we shouldn't have trusted you," he spat, watching her head grow closer out of the corner of his eye. She had duped everyone with her little 'woeth me' charade, taking everyone's kindness and compassion and using it to manipulate them to her will. His friends would do anything to help an innocent person in need, and she had fucking used that against them like they were nothing.

The _bitch!_

"You're some kind of spy, aren't you?" he asked, disgusted, while lifting his leg up carefully, painfully aware of her exposed ankles surrounding him. After getting no response (not that he had really expected any), his anger tripled. "You traitorous piece of shit!" he cursed, driving a forceful knee into her gut.

The girl shrieked, tugging on her arms futilely as she tried to curl in on herself like a wounded animal. The fight seemed to wisp out of her, and fat tears splashed onto Conner's cheek. She released a low, pitiful moan, her eyes closed tight.

 _Oh shit,_ he thought, doubt leaking into his gut, _how hard did I hit her? This will so not look good when-_

Olive eyes snapping open, she threw her body weight at Conner once more, all pain seemingly forgotten. Conner, completely caught off guard, immediately tightened his relaxed grip, keeping his knee up to lift her body further away from him. More spittle was flying feverishly from her lips now, mingling grotesquely with her tears on Conner's face.

All doubt evaporating into a bitter mist, Conner sneered as he stared into her deranged eyes. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he thundered, shifting his grip once more as she dove her face toward his forearm then back at his nose again. "Come on, saying something!" he ranted, his temper lighting up his cobalt eyes like electric sparks. "What, you forget how to talk now? Or was that just an act too? _Say something!_ "

Inches away from him, the medical bay door slammed open, revealing a flustered but determined M'gann. Her eyes widened in shock as they landed on the two wresting on the floor, the girl continuing to snarl and snap wildly at Conner, oblivious to the newcomer. For a fraction of a second, Superboy watched M'gann's face fall with betrayal as she hovered a few feet away from him, struggling to understand the scene in front of her. Then her eyes glowed a vibrant greenish-white and the weight of the insane girl suddenly left him as she was flung away, pinned to the wall like a butterfly in a collector's case.

l-l-l

For the hundredth time since seeing her in action, Dick replayed the girl's moves in his head: her graceful turns as she launched herself from Canary's back, her remarkable form when she flung herself out of Conner's way. Despite being out of practice and still fighting off the lingering effects of malnourishment, her execution was surprisingly similar to the skill level he used as Robin. Sure, her implementation was a little rusty, but it was as if her body knew what to do without any instruction from the girl herself. That in itself was impressive -and it took a lot to impress the Boy Wonder on his own turf.

Still, when he said "her body seemed to know before she did," he meant it literally. The girl herself didn't seem to play much of an important role in her leaps and bounds; otherwise she wouldn't have waited so long to act when she was sparring Black Canary. It was as if her body _actually knew_ the moves more than she did, and could preform them without the girl's conscious thought.

Which was just all sorts of disturbing. Even after being in the game for so long, Dick had never preformed such complex moves on instinct alone (although rolls and single flips were as easy as breathing to him now). The girl's capabilities were something more than just muscle memory. They were something bigger, something that was almost…inhuman.

And while he became more and more uneasy each time he remembered her actions, they still provided the first solid lead to her identity since she had arrived. Teenagers don't just learn those moves in their free time; it takes years of intense training at a gymnastics gym, or in Dick's case, a circus. At one point in her life, she must have been quite the athlete, likely in competitive gymnastics or even as a performer. _And lucky for me,_ he mused, eyeing the Flying Graysons poster next to his desk, _that sort of history leaves tracks._

…Or at least it _should_. Despite three days of almost solid research, leafing through a trillion mentions of "teenage gymnast protégés" online, he had found nothing. She might as well have been a freaking _ghost_ for all he could discover about her.

Sighing, Dick plucked a notepad from one of his desk drawers, along with a blue pen. _Even nothing can give something useful,_ he reasoned before beginning his list.

 _No criminal history, no school record, no immigration documentation._ The Batcave's facial recognition system would've picked up on anything as basic as that. Still, these pieces of anti-evidence were at least little helpful. The lack of a criminal history made it highly likely she was just an ordinary citizen, not a pawn in some larger game. Additionally, having no school record meant that she A) was homeschooled, B) never attended school in the United States or C) she never attended school period. However, the American government would've had documentation of her had she been an immigrant, so that killed Option B. Normally, Dick would've been inclined to lean toward Option A, but although she learned quickly from her books, she hadn't known anything beyond basic arithmetic (adding and subtracting) when she had first arrived. Being homeschooled would have covered more mathematics than that, even if she had stopped in elementary school.

Which left Option C. But what would cause an American teen to miss school entirely? By the girl's own admission, her street smarts were pitifully lacking, which meant that she probably hadn't grown up homeless or even intensely impoverished. Learning this only complicated the situation. After all, what could possibly keep a middle-class kid from finishing elementary school, publicly or at home?

Dick rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms. This information was nothing new; hell, he had figured this much out in the first week! But since then, the logic thread had gone stale in his brain. If he could just answer this one stupid question, he could finally go to Batman with something they could actually _use._

So, what could keep a middle-class kid from getting an education? What would force a kid to drop out of elementary level homeschooling? What would prevent a kid from enrolling in the first place? What would allow a middle-class parent or guardian to watch a little kid grow up without any sort of schooling?

Wait, a little kid…?

Dick's eyes widened as he acknowledged the obvious answer: _Age!_

If something had happened to the girl before she was old enough to enter mandatory school, say five or six years old, that would explain why she never received an education! But what could've happened? The Batcave's computer would've found a missing kid report via the Amber Alert system, but if not kidnapping or running away, then what?

Dick's fingers hovered above the keyboard but he couldn't think of anything more to search. With the help of the Batcave's computer, he had already combed though every imaginable type of paper trail a person could leave, but she wasn't a gymnast or a performer, she wasn't an immigrant or a missing kid or a student or a criminal. According to the rest of the world, she wasn't anything at all!

Dick slammed his laptop closed, resting his forehead on the slick metallic surface, his hands weaving themselves through his hair. _Why does this have to be so hard?_ he grumbled internally. The fucking _dead_ were easier to find than this girl!

Suddenly, the Boy Wonder shot up from his desk, his chair toppling over behind him with a crash. That was it! He had finally figured it out!

What does the hero in a movie do when he wants to restart his life?

What is the easiest way to erase yourself from the government's radar?

What kind of people don't leave traces, who are easily forgotten by the world and its governments?

 _Dead ones!_

Dick heard a loud rap on his door, followed by a bellow of "I'm coming in!" The door slammed open not a moment later, revealing an alarmed Bruce Wayne still dressed in his business best. Dick whirled to face his distressed guardian, practically vibrating with excitement. The man's eyes flicked around the expansive room, clearly on alert for threats that were not there, before settling on his ward.

"Bruce!" Dick exclaimed, beaming through his surprise. "I've figured it out! I've finally figured it out!"

The billionaire swiftly strode over, confusion tightening his eyes. "Dick, are you all right?" he asked, clasping one of his adoptive son's shoulders in each hand. "I heard a loud crash, and then you didn't answer when I called your name."

Dick blinked, surprised he hadn't heard Bruce's calls. "Sorry," he managed, his smile pinching slightly with awkwardness. "I guess I was too excited to hear you." Shifting uncomfortably in the man's grip, he added, "I'll try to be more careful next time."

Satisfied with the boy's answer, Bruce let his arms fall to his sides. "So what's this about figuring something out?"

Just like that, the brilliant grin was back. "Not just _something_ , Bruce," he cried, waving his hands wildly in the air. "It's _everything!_ I finally figured it out! I finally know who the girl is!"

Bruce's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, a smile touching the corners of his lips from the boy's excited antics. "You did?" he asked, both pleased and surprised. "Who is she, then?"

Dick winced slightly, curling in on himself just a bit. "Okay," he relented, his shoulder twitching in a shrug, "So I haven't actually found it out yet…but I've found out how to find out!" He paused for a moment in thought, a devious smile slipping into place before cackling, "I've found _in!"_

The boy moved to walk past his mentor, too preoccupied to notice Bruce wasn't listening anymore. "All this time," he exclaimed, "I've been searching for the wrong thing! I just need access to the Batcave's computer, then I can use its facial recognition program to-"

Bruce held out an arm, catching Dick in the chest as he tried to pass. "That can wait," he stated definitively, his other hand falling from his ear. "I just got word from J'onn; there's been an emergency."

Dick pinched his lips together in what was definitely _not_ a pout. "Can't one of the other Leaguers take care of it?" he asked, his voice dangerously close to a whine. "I've been trying to figure this out for months!"

"This had nothing to do with the League," Bruce detailed, his voice slipping into the growl he reserved for Batman. "There's been an incident at the Cave."


	10. Weaknesses

**Hi guys! I'm super sorry that this took so long to post. It's been a very busy week for me, and this chapter was really hard to write. I'm honestly not too happy with the result, but I'm hoping you all will still like it (maybe it'll help to know that it's more than 4,500 words?).**

 **Thank you to everyone who has reviewed thus far! It is always very helpful.**

 **FYI, I am now capitalizing "the Team" whenever you could substitute it for "Young Justice." So, if someone says, "You are part of the Team" it could be "You are part of Young Justice." But if someone says, "We are a team" that couldn't be said as "We are Young Justice" without changing the meaning, so it's uncapitalized. Just thought I'd give you a heads up.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

Conner stared down at M'gann as another shudder tore through her tiny frame, his arm tightening protectively in response. She had seemed so strong when she stormed into the room, whipping the rabid girl from his body with pure telekinetic force, her hair waving in an unseen breeze. Sure, she had obviously been disturbed by the girl's insane behavior, but she had also been amazingly fierce and unafraid. It just didn't make sense to Conner that she had burst into uncontrollable sobs a moment later.

At the time, Manhunter had looked like he wanted nothing more than to comfort his niece, but instead he sent them both out of the room, staying behind to deal with the still snarling girl alone. Picking himself up off of the floor, Conner had taken the sobbing Martian into his arms, guiding her as gently as he could to the bench outside the medical bay. There they had sat in a drained silence while M'gann continued to tremble and weep. Suddenly hyperaware of his lumbering build, Conner had awkwardly tried to comfort her as questions burned in his throat and tight panic scratched at his bones.

To say that M'gann's hysterical state alarmed Conner was a gross understatement. It _terrified_ him. Miss Martian was strong and beautiful and courageous and compassionate, and although she had been a little prone to crying during the first few weeks of the Team, she had never broken down like this.

Now she looked crushed, destroyed in a way that frankly seemed too extreme for what they had just encountered. Worse yet, she still hadn't spoken to him, not since their initial talk over the communicator. In fact, she had barely looked at him at all, as her first attempt at a grin had shattered into a renewed influx of crippling tears. Conner had watched this needless gesture crumble, knowing it was M'gann trying to achieve her unrealistic perception of heroism, and had been overwhelmed by inexplicable feelings of grief and frustration. In a world that was constantly searching for ways to limit his power, nothing had ever made him feel so utterly useless -Kryptonite and inhibitor collars and mind-controlling genomorphs included.

It took the greater part of thirty minutes, but eventually her sobs quelled into softer sniffles. She still remained tucked into his side, with her legs folded up against her chest and her face burrowed into her knees, but her breathing was softer as her muscles unwound. Conner could feel M'gann's heart rate slow into a less frantic rhythm as it thumped against his chest, although his arm still shook every time her breath caught jaggedly in her throat.

The Kyptonian felt stiff as he sat with her, as if his brutish body couldn't quite accept the role of the soothing consoler. He wasn't sure what exactly he should be doing, and the growing silence began to feel paradoxically stifling and calming, isolating and nurturing. He had a dozen mathematical equations and battle strategies locked inside his brain, but those damn genomorphs had never prepared him for something like this, for something so… _human._

Another tremor rocked M'gann's body, and Conner watched her (while at the same time not knowing if he _should_ be watching her) take a deep breath. Satisfied that she was not about to be launched into a new round of tears, Conner let his eyes close for just a brief moment. He hadn't been particularly tired a few minutes ago, but with M'gann finally calming down and the last traces of adrenaline from the girl's attack leaving him, his body was starting to feel like it was coated in hardening concrete.

He was just about to doze off when he first heard her speak, so quiet that he thought he might have dreamt it. "Conner, I'm so sorry."

The boy blinked, forcibly expelling the sleep from his eyes. He turned his head slightly, twisting his neck to see if she had truly spoken. Her body remained in the same position, her face hidden under flaming hair and her own limbs, yet somehow he knew that he had heard correctly. Still, the actual _words_ made no sense.

"What are you talking about?" Conner blurted thoughtlessly before immediately regretting the question's unintended harshness. Unable to soften their impact, he bit his lip, waiting for her response.

M'gann sucked in a shuddering gasp and Conner froze, terrified that he had just flung her into the throws of another crying fit. Thankfully, he felt her relax again as she exhaled a warm, steady breath onto his side.

"For this, this, _this-_ " she began, but her words were clipped by another quiver as her voice hitched. This time, however, the action was different. It was…bitter, somehow.

"Breakdown?" Conner supplied tactlessly.

He felt her head bob in a nod against him.

"Don't be," he responded immediately, his hand squeezing her arm. "You were better friends with her than anyone, so I can understand if you're a little-"

"It's not that," she interrupted quickly, tensing like she was about to move away from him. The moment passed, however, and she remained tucked against Conner's side.

The boy blinked in surprise. Despite noticing the strangeness of M'gann's reaction, her friendship with the girl was the only explanation he had come up with. What else could possibly be bothering her so much? Conner looked down at her, wishing he could see her face and perhaps decode her evasive words. After all, he was no detective; that kind of stuff was more Robin's turf.

Unable to think of a better question, he finally asked, "It's not?"

"No," she murmured, sounding scared and hurt and worn and betrayed. "It was her _mind_." She grew quiet for a moment, shuddering in revulsion. "I could _feel_ her, Conner. I don't know if it was my own powers or her's or some horrible combination of both but I could just _feel_ her emotions all of a sudden without any warning." M'gann paused her rambling to tightened her hold around her knees. "God, it was terrible!" she confessed, her whole body shivering. "Her mind didn't make any sense at all! All I could feel was this- this _wildness_ in her thoughts, although they weren't thoughts as much as- as _compulsions_. Like an animal." Her hands clenched into fists on her shins. "Like a crazy vicious _animal_!"

Conner sat motionless, letting the new information seep in. He recalled the girl's state from earlier that night, snarling and frothing above him, the rabid look in her eyes, the deranged way she had popped her shoulders in and out of their sockets-

And M'gann had been _inside_ of that? Jesus Christ.

He opened his mouth to reply, but M'gann beat him to it. "But, Conner," she continued, her strained voice suddenly sounding louder in his ears, "beneath all of her- her _insanity_ was something controlled, something _purposeful."_

He frowned, an inexplicable sense of fear washing over him. "I don't understand."

M'gann shifted, and Conner's sight was suddenly eclipsed by a fiery set of ruby eyes. His breath caught in his throat as he met her gaze, his arm suddenly hanging over loose air.

M'gann eyes burrowed fretfully into his, a whirlwind of fear and pain and determination. "Conner," she began, her voice begging him to pay close attention. "Underneath everything was this overpowering desire to touch _Superman!"_

l-l-l

Robin felt his body tighten with dreadful anticipation as he followed Batman to the medical bay. His excitement from less than an hour earlier had completely evaporated, pounded into a bleak nothingness by the latest turn of events. As he walked, one putrid thought continued to revolve throughout his mind like a corrupted merry-go-round. _Like a depressed-go-round,_ he supplied mentally. Oh God, he wished that was funny, but no amount of backward-formations could change the facts.

 _She betrayed us,_ the thought whirled again. The girl he had saved, who he had brought to the Cave against orders, who they had welcomed into their home because she so _desperately_ needed them to, who he had come to consider as a _friend_ -

 _That girl_ had just attacked Conner, the Team, and almost everything they fought for. Dick had only felt this level of rage and guilt once before, but never as Robin, never since he had stopped playing the role of the poor, defenseless orphan. Becoming Robin was supposed to give him some control over his life so he that wouldn't ever have to feel that way again, so that he would have the power to not just stand helplessly by while life spat in his face and pissed in his shoes.

But here he was, and even with all of Robin's might he was still just as weak as the useless little kid watching Mary and John Grayson fall to their deaths.

And to think that just a few months earlier he had actually believed the he could _lead_ the Team! Forget being the leader, he wasn't even sure he should still be on it at all. Robin had screwed up so much in just the last few months alone; how many mistakes did it take until his poor judgment outweighed his usefulness? How long until the Team kicked him to the wayside in favor of someone older, more mature, less… _average_?

As the Duo approached the medical bay, Robin could make out the forms of M'gann and Conner sitting on the outside bench. It didn't take long to notice the anger threaded tightly throughout Superboy's body, although one arm was kept carefully ginger as it hung around the distraught shoulders beside him. M'gann leaned slightly against the clone, her face burrowed into her hands and her knees folded tightly against her chest. Robin was shocked to see her look so small, all tucked away like she was stored up for future use. Such a brilliant, cheerful girl should never be reduced to something so beaten.

Wordlessly, Robin went to stand in front of his friends, leaving his mentor to meet Martian Manhunter in the med bay alone. Taking Batman's silence as approval, Robin watched regretfully as the medical bay door shut soundlessly behind the vigilante.

Slowly crumbling under the weight of his own guilt, Robin stood apprehensively in front of the budding couple. He desperately wanted to know the details of their ordeal, to have them recall everything that had happened as specifically as possible, but one barely restrained look of rage from Conner stopped the questions before they were ever materialized. In that look, Robin's worst fear was realized; Superboy blamed him.

 _But then again,_ Robin thought, crestfallen, _why wouldn't he?_

Conner continued to study the Boy Wonder unflinchingly, making Robin's skin twitch. Noticing the boy's tense presence, M'gann let her feet fall loosely to the floor, her body unfolding like an accordion. The quaking girl sniffled, rubbing at her eyes and nose before attempting her best "Don't worry, I'm actually fine" smile. The glassy grin did nothing to reassure Robin; all he could notice was her eyes, red and swollen and splintered.

"Miss M, are you okay?" Robin asked softly, as if the girl might shatter from volume alone. For all of her sensitivities, Miss Martian had grown into a resilient and formidable force since joining the Team. She hadn't broken down anywhere near this badly for some time, so what in the world had happened?

Embarrassed, M'gann opened her mouth to reassure her teammate, but Conner cut in before she had the chance. "No," he retorted sharply, his tone fuming under a barely retained calm, "she's not." The Kyptonian narrowed his eyes, something akin to resentment burning in the crystal orbs. "But you would know that if you had been here."

Robin felt his eyebrows slide up his forehead, sincerely surprised by the barely hidden accusation. He had expected to be blamed for bringing the girl to the Cave and trusting her so easily, but for not being there on such a random Tuesday night? Surely Conner couldn't be criticizing him for that! He was never allowed at the Cave on a weeknight -at least not while the Big Bat wasn't de-caped and on some international business trip. He had even warned everyone that Batman had him on house arrest until after he aced tomorrow's history test…or, judging by the clock hanging above the medical bay's door, _today's_ history test _._ Robin took a silent breath, letting his calm nature coat his words. "I don't know what-"

Conner's nose wrinkled in the beginnings of a snarl. "Your _communicator,_ Robin! Turns out it's more than just a fashion statement," he sneered, his lip curling. "I knew something was going down, so I made a distress call though my comm. M'gann was the only one to answer."

Robin's stomach opened into a pit, something cold and hard resting at its bottom far below his feet. He licked his lips, enough guilt washing over him to send his mind into a tailspin. "Conner, I'm so sorry," Robin conceded. "I had it on my desk, but I guess I was too focused on my research to notice it was going off."

Conner merely grunted, his eyes finally moving away from Robin. "Don't apologize to me," he deflected, his arm tightening around the still quivering girl. "I'm not the one who got telepathically force-fed a chunk of Crazy Girl's mind."

Guilt redoubled, Robin shifted his eyes to M'gann, forcing an apology past a trillion burning questions and to his lips. Before he was able to speak, however, M'gann shifted sharply away from Conner, letting his arm fall from her shoulders.

"Stop it Conner," she instructed, keeping her voice kind. "It's not Robin's fault. He couldn't have known this was going to happen."

 _Great,_ Robin thought dryly as he watched the clone's mouth fall open with surprise and betrayal, _not only did I miss his call for backup but now I'm turning his maybe-girlfriend against him. Way to go, Grayson!_

"No," Robin argued firmly, shaking his head. "Conner's right; I should've been here." _And I shouldn't have trusted her in the first place,_ he added mentally.

"Yeah," Conner confirmed unwaveringly, straightening from his position against M'gann. "You should've."

Defeated, Robin looked away, wishing there was a way he could right his many wrongs…or at least phase through the floor so that he wouldn't have to stand before his teammates like a criminal before a judge. Unfortunately (and much to his annoyance), he remained frustratingly solid with no way to fix what he had broken and no way to dull the resulting shards.

M'gann was quiet after that, although Robin couldn't tell if she was agreeing with him or if she was just too worn out to debate it.

The long, heavy silence was broken a few minutes later by hurried footsteps, announcing the arrival of Kaldur'ahm. Robin held in a sigh of relief, offering a small smile as a greeting to the newcomer.

Kaldur returned the gesture halfheartedly, choosing to focus on his two benched teammates. "Conner, M'gann," he greeted solemnly. "Batman has informed me of the situation." He winced slightly, before dipping into a low bow. "Please accept my deepest apologies. I should have been here."

After taking the last few minutes to compose herself, M'gann's fake smile was much more convincing. "Don't worry Kaldur, it was really nothing!" she sputtered, her emerald cheeks turning rosy. "I'm really fine, and Superboy doesn't think she actually _touched_ him or anything, so there's no need to apologize!" she chuckled nervously, her hand hovering above Kaldur's bent shoulder. "Please don't feel bad! It's not like I was here alone or anything; Uncle J'onn came with me once we heard his distress call over the comm link, and I'm sure you were taking care of something important! I mean, 'Hello, Megan!' or course you were, you're _Aqualad…"_

She faded off, a nervous smile on her lips, and turned expectantly to the silent boy beside her. "Right, Conner?" she piped.

Conner studied her face before turning away in a grunt. "Next time, just answer the damn comm."

Kaldur rose, a grateful smile on his face. "It will not happen again, Superboy," he swore.

"You have our word," Robin added, stepping in line with his leader.

Conner glanced between them, still looking plenty pissed, but nodded in acknowledgment.

After another slightly less uncomfortable silence, Robin couldn't hold his questions back any longer. "So, she didn't touch you?" he asked, although he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

Superboy pressed his lips together, the tightness in his face returning. "I don't think so, but I can't be sure," he admitted. "She wasn't wearing her suit."

M'gann nodded in confirmation, resting a comforting hand on Conner's knee. "It'll be all right, I just know it," she maintained. "Once Uncle J'onn establishes a psychic link we'll know for sure. You'll see."

l-l-l

Robin rested his back against the wall, his body tight with unused energy. He had spent the past hour learning every detail about what had happened to Conner and M'gann, how the girl had tackled Superboy to the floor and had somehow projected her insane emotions into Miss M. It was disturbing as hell, especially when Conner had described her as a rabid animal. After having two months to get to know someone, how could Robin have gotten her so wrong?

Even worse was what M'gann had found underneath all of the girl's crazy semi-thoughts: the compulsion to touch Superman. In the tangled mess of her rabid mind, M'gann had described that desire as the eye of the storm –a bizarrely calm and orderly place in the center of incredible chaos. The Martian kept using the word "purposeful" over and over, but what did that mean? If she had such a specific purpose, why did she act so savagely? If touching Superman was her goal, why did she attack Superboy? Why not bide her time until she met the original Kyptonian himself? Why expose her true intentions so recklessly, so irrationally?

Another twenty minutes of bored silence oozed by, leaving Robin more than a little stir crazy. He was wasting time here! If he could just get to the Batcave's computer, he could actually find out who this traitor was. Not to mention he _did_ have that history test tomorrow, and the flashcards he had made earlier were still sitting unused in his desk.

Robin groaned inwardly. As much as he hated to admit it, it was useless to be thinking about this stuff now. Both the flashcards and the Batcave were out of reach, so Robin was stuck waiting around for news he couldn't impact.

Not that he had any right to complain. Even though he had (unofficially) been forgiven for not answering Conner's mayday, this was still his fault. After all, he was the one who had found the girl, brought her here, and trusted her based solely on impulse and his naive faith in humanity. The least he could do was wait to see what disaster unfolded as a result.

Deep within his own thoughts, he was surprised to feel a strong hand clasp his shoulder. Robin turned his head slightly, his mind slowly coming back to reality, to see Kaldur crouching beside him. The Atlantean smiled tiredly. "Let's take a walk, my friend," he offered, rising to his full height.

Robin followed suit, trailing a few paces behind Kaldur as he strode away from the medical bay. _He probably just wants to check in with me,_ Robin hypothesized internally, trying to ignore the slithering feeling of apprehension in his gut. _I mean, it doesn't take a genius to see that I've been a little off my game lately. He'll probably just ask how I'm doing, call me out on my screw-ups and tell me to do better from now on._ The Boy Wonder nodded to himself resolutely, clenching his fists tightly enough to feel his nails bite into the soft flesh of his palms. _Yeah, that's all! Before I know it we'll be back in the hallway waiting for Batman and Manhunter to report on what they've discovered._ He scoffed mentally as he followed Kaldur around another corner. _Whoopee._

They continued on for several minutes, making their way easily through the labyrinth-like layout of Mount Justice. After passing the Souvenir Room and rounding several more corners, they finally stopped. Robin doubted anyone would be able to hear them here, not even Superboy.

An uneasy silence rang between the two teens for next few minutes, making Robin itchy with anticipation. Why was Kaldur waiting so long to begin? Robin had always respected the older teen's direct and honest character, his natural inclination against hiding his opinions or beating around the bush. The Atlantean had called Robin out many times before without hesitation or incident. Why was this time so different?

Desperate to kick off whatever conversation was about to occur yet still clinging to the hope that this time was no different from any other, Robin forced a friendly smile to his lips. "So, what's up Aqualad?" he chirped, hoping he sounded chipper instead of twitchy. "Something putting the 'dis' in your 'aster'?"

Kaldur turned to the younger boy, his solid eyes gazing unflinchingly into Robin's face. "Manhunter and I have been talking," he began slowly, his voice carefully level. The hero's stance changed minutely, but the subtle difference still gave Robin the impression of someone bracing for a storm while they watched the angry clouds roll in. Aqualad was preparing himself –but for what?

Robin stared expectantly at his leader, trying to calm his trilling heart. He needed to ask the obvious question, the one he both desperately did and did not want answered, but he couldn't seem to push the cumbersome words out of his throat. Instead, he managed to force, "Oh really?" through a nervous chuckle.

Kaldur nodded, keeping his eyes locked onto Robin's. If the acrobat hadn't known better, he would have thought that Aqualad was able to see straight though his mask; although for all the protection it was giving him, Robin supposed it didn't really matter anyway. "Yes," Kaldur confirmed, his jaw set. The Atlantean's next words were firm, the verbal equivalent of steeling yourself against a blow you know you can't return. "And we have come to the conclusion that it would be best for you to take a break from the Team."

Robin's mouth fell open, horror and betrayal gripping his chest. They were kicking him off the Team? His heart beat painfully in his ribcage and unseen tears swam in his eyes. He wanted to fight back, to demand an explanation and scream, "How could you do this to me?" but the words died in his throat. He knew why this was happening.

He had finally made one mistake too many. He had finally become more of a liability than an asset.

Clicking his mouth shut, he turned his face away from his teammate – _former teammate-_ gulping desperately to clear his clogged throat. What should he say? What could he say?

"Oh," he wheezed.

"That's it?" Kaldur asked, sounding surprised. He positioned himself in front of the struggling boy, extending his neck to get a better look at the masked face. "I expected you to be angry."

Robin hunched his shoulders stiffly, turning his face further to the side. "What do you want from me, Kaldur?" he muttered bitterly. "I just want what's best for the Team."

Suddenly, the Atlantean reached forward, taking hold of Robin's shoulders tightly. The younger boy's face snapped forward at the unexpected contact, obviously startled. "And you think that the Team would be more successful _without_ you," Kaldur concluded lowly, his face looming over Robin's.

Robin snorted self-deprecatingly, his grief turning into malice. "Well, apparently I'm not the only one!" he cried, bringing his forearms up in front of him and slamming them perpendicularly into Kaldur's. The Atlantean's grip slipped from Robin's shoulders, and he shuffled backward from the forceful break. Free from his grasp, Robin took a step back as well. "I mean, Jesus Christ, Kaldur!" the boy swore, fuming. "You're the one that's kicking me from the Team!"

Kaldur stared at the emotional boy for a moment, before shaking his head sadly. "No, I'm not," he confessed, his eyes watching Robin carefully.

Robin blinked, his arms falling from where he had unconsciously readied them to fight. "Uh…what?"

The teen pinched him lips tightly together, looking guilty but not regretful. "I needed to understand how you perceive yourself as a part of our team," he explained. "I apologize for using such deceptive methods."

Robin stared him, knowing he should _really_ be angry now but instead only feeling relieved. "So I'm still on the Team?" he confirmed haltingly, uncertain.

Kaldur nodded. "Of course you are, Robin," he assured. "The real question is, why were you so willing to leave it in the first place?"

The Boy Wonder gulped, feeling more Blunder than Wonder at the moment. He leaned his back against the wall, wishing once again for the power to phase straight through it. "I thought you'd decided the Team would be better off."

Kaldur continued to focus on the boy, confusion seeping from his eyes. "But why?"

"Come on, Kaldur," Robin said dryly, staring somewhere over Aqualad's right shoulder. "I think it's pretty obvious that I've been off my game recently."

"I also missed Conner's distress signal," Kaldur pointed out, quickly decoding Robin's cryptic response. "Not to mention Kid Flash and Artemis. You are not alone in your mistake."

"But aren't I?" Robin countered, feeling guilt well up into his eyes and throat. "I was the one who brought her here! And then I trusted her too easily to delude myself into thinking I hadn't made such a big mistake after all."

Kaldur stepped forward again. "We all trusted her too quickly," he admitted. "We saw a child very similar to ourselves who needed a home, a family. We let our compassion blind us." The older teen grabbed Robin's shoulders once more, a tight unrelenting grip. " _All_ of us, Robin."

Robin refused to meet Kaldur's eyes, choosing to study his shoes instead. "I still brought her here," he muttered bitterly. "Againt orders, against protocol."

"Robin," Kaldur began, his voice hardening, "You did what any hero would have done."

Robin looked up, trying to downplay the tension in the hall as he swept his bangs back from his eyes. "Yeah," he agreed deceptively, "and look where it got us."

"Clarity comes to water once traveled, my friend," Kaldur offered kindly. Seeing the boy's uncomprehending expression, the leader released him and elaborated. "It's an Atlantean saying. It means that the right choices are always clear retrospectively."

Robin nodded absentmindedly. "Here we say 'Hindsight is 20/20.'"

Kaldur smiled. "Then you understand what I am trying to say." He paused before adding with an amused chuckle, "For all your strengths Robin, you are no fortuneteller. You can't blame yourself for outcomes you couldn't have possibly foreseen."

Robin sighed, looking away from the older boy. After a moment he faced him again, a simple question sliding from his tongue. "Would you?"

Kaldur pressed his lips together tightly. "I might," he admitted softly. "But that doesn't make it right."


	11. Confusions

**I am so sorry that this has taken so long! My classes were really tough this quarter, and some other stuff went down which really left no time for writing. Also, this chapter was really hard to make interesting, or realistic, so I struggled with that a lot to. In any case, I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

Alice screamed when she awoke, writhing as a sudden agony washed over her. Her cry shattered as quickly as it had started, and she gasped as a new pain in her throat assaulted her already splintering nerves. Her body was out of control, her mind a mess as rational thought battled a tsunami of instinctual emotions and impulses. She couldn't breathe, and her chest heaved in desperation as her fingers clutched the blankets below her. Something was telling her to _go, go, go,_ something without rhyme or reason, something she could only observe as it threatened to overpower her. It was like pure electricity was clawing at her thready muscles, pinching her nerves, scratching at her heart and brain and-

What was happening? She could barely conjure the question as her thoughts erratically ripped through her mind, whipping and running like a _train_ , like a web or-

Fear saturated her body, forcing bile to burn her raw throat. Her head was exploding, her vision slowly becoming eclipsed by black holes tearing chasms into reality-

And then something was over her nose and mouth, and she was suffocating, and she was going to die, and-

Air blasted into her open mouth, cool and pure and air, _thank God._ She inhaled viciously, ignoring the discomfort in her throat. The pounding in her head receded just enough to allow for constructive thought, her vision clearing completely.

Still, she couldn't move under the force of some mysterious pressure, which was fueling a new, more logical fear. And her body _hurt_ everywhere -her wrists, shoulders, stomach, back, head- more than anything she could remember or imagine.

"Breathe," Batman commanded as Alice teetered on the edge of another panic attack, the heart monitor wired to her chest twitching erratically behind his head.

Alice whipped her head to face the man on her left, wondering how long he had been standing so close to her. Her heartbeat hitched in surprise, but slowed again as she followed the hero's advice, noticing Martian Manhunter on her right in the process.

"Wha-?" She tried, but her throat seized uncontrollably, launching her into a dry coughing fit.

Alice watched Batman cast Manhunter a questioning glance before reaching for the medical bed's remote and raising the incline somewhere between forty-five and ninety degrees. Thankfully the pressure moved with her, keeping her locked into place without crushing into a pancake. The new position eased her coughing spell considerably, and she was able to relax her muscles as she settled into the new position, wincing slightly as her stomach twitched in pain.

The girl forcefully cleared her throat, feeling her inhibitor collar shift with the movement, anxiety still thrumming in her chest. Something bad had happened (that much was obvious), and judging by the way they were restraining her, she was probably more of a suspect than a victim.

"Did I…?" she croaked, her throat barely admitting a hoarse whisper. "Did I…something…wrong?"

Manhunter and Batman shared a long look over the girl's still body, their faces grave. "German," Batman supplied. "It's been a while, but I believe she asked if she has made…" Batman paused, his lips tightening minutely. "No, _done_ something wrong."

Alice nodded, wondering why they were having so much trouble understanding her. Sure, her voice was raspy, but it was still clearly English.

Manhunter looked down at her for a long moment. "Something unexpected has occurred," he deflected smoothly, his voice lacking the concern it once held for her, "and we are curious to know; what do you remember?"

Bewildered by the vague question, Alice felt her eyebrows furrow. She licked her lips in a vain attempt to work some moisture into her mouth, trying to formulate a respectable response. "I…read," she rasped, tilting her chin at the _Alice and Wonderland_ paperback on her bedside table. "Then…slept."

Batman grunted. "My German's too rusty; I can't understand her."

"German?" she asked, feeling foolish. "I don't… _wheeze_...German."

The two men shared another long look, confusion leaking from their otherwise stony expressions. "What is our next course of action?" Manhunter inquired after a moment while coolly checking Alice's pulse and heart rate on the monitor.

"Well, we could get the audio translator from the Batcave…" Batman offered blandly. "But seeing as Robin has been eavesdropping for the last twenty minutes and is fluent in German…"

Manhunter lips twitched into a smile as there was a loud _thud_ in the hallway followed by a string of foreign-sounding curse words. Then the door creaked open, revealing an obviously flustered Boy Wonder. "I wasn't-" he began weakly, but was cut off by a wave of Batman's gloved hand.

"I'm assuming we don't need to catch you up on the situation?"

Robin smiled guiltily before shaking his head. "Uh, yeah...no need. She said she read and then slept." He gave Alice a cool sideways glance. "Not the most helpful answer though."

Alice stared back at her friend, a whimper whistling soundlessly through her pipes. But before she could voice her confusion, Batman continued.

"No," he responded, facing her. "What do you remember after going to bed?"

She stared at him a moment, hoping he would elaborate. When nothing came, she took a deep, rattling breath. "I…had…nightmare?" she recalled, the details of her dream fleeing from her mind as she spoke. She doubted the relevance of talking about her mind's unconscious adventures, but when no further instructions came from her mysterious company she continued, saying, "Someone…grabbing me. They-" Her body spasmed as she tried to lean forward, another coughing fit thundering through her chest. She clutched at the blankets below her, the pain in her abdomen reaching a new height.

Alice squeezed her eyes shut as the oxygen mask was lifted away and a cool glass rim touched her lips. Grateful for the aid, she drank slowly, careful to alleviate and not aggravate her tender throat.

She opened her eyes again, forcing deep, steady breaths through her lungs as the mask was returned by an invisible force.

"She said she had a nightmare," Robin 'translated.' "Someone was grabbing her. Then she either referred to them as 'she' or 'they –I can't tell without the rest of the sentence."

"They," Alice clarified, still bewildered.

"That not helpful," Robin retorted disdainfully. "'Sie' can mean 'she' or 'they,'" "*Sie was? 'Sie ergriffen' oder 'sie ergrifft?'"

"I don't…understand," she wheezed. "I don't…German."

"Robin?" Batman interjected impatiently.

"She says she doesn't understand," Robin clarified, lips pursed. "And that she doesn't speak German."

"How is that possible?" Manhunter wondered aloud. "It is evident that her knowledge of the language is expansive enough to speak it. Yet she still cannot understand?"

"I don't think she realizes she's speaking it," Robin answered, his eyebrows drawn tight beneath his mask.

The three heroes turned their gazes onto the perplexed girl, who could only nod in response.

l-l-l

Robin was at the end of his rope. He had just been kicked off the team, then lectured about how he would _never_ be kicked off the team, all before being called out on eavesdropping like he was a toddler listening outside of his parents' bedroom door. Now he was translating for a traitor who doesn't speak or understand the language she was undeniably speaking.

"Warum…verletzt?" The girl questioned after a tense moment, pain cutting into her words. Her chest shuddered with the exertion, making her face twist in an unvoiced whimper.

"She's asking why she's hurt," Robin translated promptly, trying to quell the unwelcome pity slithering in his gut.

Wordlessly, Batman conjured a holographic screen from his left gauntlet. A few more clicks and the screen was enlarged as he positioned his arm slightly in front of Manhunter and the girl. Interest thoroughly piqued, Robin rounded the bed corner, standing on tiptoes to look over the edge of the image as he stood beside Manhunter.

The image fizzled in front of them for a few minutes before clearing into a picture of the med bay. In the fuzzy glow of the holograph, the girl laid calmly in her bed on her back, fast asleep.

Suddenly, the sleeping girl scooted out from underneath her covers, eyes open and alert. She then stood at the foot of her bed, crouching like she was preparing for an attack.

"**Was…?" the present-girl rasped breathlessly. Robin watched the horrified girl in front of him as her past-self tested her balance on the mattress, leaning this way and that, before releasing a blood-curdling wail. She gasped, staring wide-eyed as the "asleep" girl screamed again, followed by terrified pleas of "Let me go!" and "Someone help me!"

Robin turned back to the screen, watching as Conner burst through the door and was promptly tackled to the ground by the now snarling girl. After a few more moments, the girl turned away. Robin watched tears gather at her eyes.

Batman slowly lowered his arm and the holographic screen disappeared. "M'gann enters a few minutes later and forces you against the far wall," he summarizes quietly. "We don't believe you actually touched Conner at any point."

The girl opened her mouth to respond, but was seemingly unable to force any words from her throat. Instead, a sob burst from her lips, the tears finally falling from her eyes. Suddenly, the pressure was gone from her body and she wasted no time curling in on herself, burrowing her head in her knees and wrapping her arms forcefully across her legs.

"***Es tut mir leid!" she wailed hoarsely, her vocal cords audibly straining as she forced the apology from her throat. She clutched her legs tighter. "Ich weiß nicht…was…passiert! Es tut…so…leid!"

Robin gaped at the sudden burst of emotion, unexpected guilt racking his frame.

"Robin?" Batman asked tersely. "What is she saying?"

Robin blinked before shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. "She's really sorry," he responded distantly, "…and she doesn't know what happened."

Robin studied the pitiful girl as she sobbed into her knees, and despite all of the anger and betrayal still swarming in his chest, he couldn't seem to hate her. It was like that faithful day in the alley all over again.

And he was just so tired, and she was just so goddamn broken. Why couldn't anything in his life be simple, just once?

Robin sighed silently, looking at the two Leaguers for guidance. Batman was unnaturally stiff as he loomed over the girl, while Manhunter placed a reluctant hand on her back. All in all, they seemed just as lost.

After a few more minutes, the girl was finally able to control her crying enough to speak. "Ich werde gehen…?" she offered weakly, her face still burrowed into her up-drawn knees. "Ich..."

"She says she'll leave," Robin translated uncomfortably, his eyes locked on the foot of her bed.

"Not an option," Batman rejected immediately. "There's still a chance you could be working for our enemies. We cannot risk handing over our secrets so easily."

Manhunter moved his hand to her shoulder, gripping it well-meaningly. "And you are still unwell from your last attempt to survive alone," he added smoothly. "Enemy or not, the Justice League does not send children off to their deaths."

"Okay," the girl sniffled, although she didn't seem particularly dissuaded.

"Manhunter and I have already discussed our options and have come to a satisfactory solution," Batman announced, moving slightly away from her.

The girl peeked over her knees at the hero, her caramel locks sticking to the tears on her face. "Okay," she whispered again.

The Dark Knight was now standing at the foot of her bed, holding the same demeanor as when he gave the Team their missions. "You are to remain here under the Team's surveillance. Several key differences will be instated to ensure the Team's security and safety, starting with the inhibitor collar. By tomorrow, we will have engineered an updated version, one with a remote lock and restraint system."

The girl stared at the Leaguer, looking unsure. "Verriegelung und Beschränkung…?"

Robin bit his lip. "She just repeated 'lock and restraint.' I think she's concerned."

Manhunter removed his hand from her shoulder, causing her to look up at him automatically. "It means the Team will have the ability to remotely turn on the collar and render you immobile," he explained. "Both will be painless, I assure you."

"Okay," she whispered again. Robin wasn't sure it was.

"You will no longer be able to physically remove your collar," Batman revealed stonily, and the girl inhaled a sharp, shuttering breath.

"Aber die Kopfschmerzen?" she interjected fearfully.

"What about her headaches?" Robin relayed.

"Instead, you may turn it off," Batman responded. "Doing so will automatically alert any personnel in the mountain through the Inhibitor Alarm."

"Okay," the girl repeated as she nodded into her knees, looking slightly relieved but mostly numb.

"Your collar will also serve as a tracker," Batman concluded. "Turning it off will not affect this capability."

"Okay."

"Additionally," Manhunter added, "We must insist you wear one of your barrier suits at all times, even during the night."

"Okay," the girl intoned, her voice flat and hallow. Robin was suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of uselessness. He couldn't protect his friends, couldn't aid this girl, couldn't even determine if she was a victim or a threat. He was at the center of this cluster-fuck, yet was barely more than an observer. He couldn't heal anything, help anything, _do_ anything.

So he stood there, inexplicably alone.

* * *

*In German, the word for 'she,' 'they' and 'formal you' are all 'S/sie' ('sie' is they/she, 'Sie' is formal you), and the distinction is made by how one conjugates the verb. So, when Alice left a sentence unfinished (ie without a verb) with 'sie,' Robin was like "It wouldn't make sense for her to be using the 'formal you,' so she either meant 'she' or 'they.'" He then asks "They/she what? 'They grabbed' or 'she grabbed'?" I didn't want to spend too much time getting into German grammar in my story, so I hope this helps to alleviate any confusion.

** 'was' means 'what.' I thought it would be stupid for Robin to translate this in the story.

*** The unsummarized translation is this: "I am sorry! I don't know...what...happened! I am...so...sorry!"

Yeah, I realized this is both a pretty boring as well as short chapter, and I'm sorry. I just felt like if I didn't publish it now, I never would. I hope to make up for it in the next chapters. Also, I have been studying German for almost seven years, but I am by no means fluent, so if you are and you see a mistake please message me! Keep in mind that she is cutting words out to lessen the strain on her throat though ("Es tut...so...leid" instead of "Es tut mir so leid").

Thanks for reading!


	12. Demons

**Hello all! I hope you like this chapter. I'm still not crazy about it, but I wasn't making any real changes to it either so...here it is. I'm still meaning to respond to last chapter's reviews (thanks so much!), but between writing this and starting a new quarter at school and other responsibilities I just haven't had the time. Until I do, please know that I still really appreciate the support!**

 **Please enjoy :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 11**

Alice stared at Robin. She couldn't be sure, but the young hero seemed to be somewhere between blood-boiling furious and nauseously heartbroken. Either way, he wouldn't look at her. Not that she cared. He wasn't here to be her friend.

She had heard Batman's orders. They made sense. Red Tornado, the only other German-speaking Cave resident (excluding her, _apparently)_ , was away on personal business, and she had already been exposed to everything in Robin's mind, so who better to keep an eye on her while her collar was being renovated? She could go crazy again and Robin would just take her down, no sweat. Only another bruise, another headache.

Sigh. _Add them to the collection_.

Robin shifted, still frozen at the end of her bed. He was staring at something on the floor slightly to his right. She was looking at him. Neither spoke. Alice didn't care.

Distantly, she wondered if the League would ever let her go. Or perhaps she would grow old in this secret non-prison, alone in the center of a glorified landfill. Or perhaps she would kill herself and be spared the whole mess. Hmm.

She had stopped crying, which was probably good. She had also started scratching at that chapped spot high on her left bicep, which was probably not good. It was bleeding, but it still itched. It didn't hurt, but it still itched. She felt her nails bite deeper.

She gulped. The action was uncomfortably restricted by the metal collar still wrapped around her neck, and she silently retched, her right hand instinctively traveling from her arm to her throat.

The movement caught Robin's attention, and Alice froze. He was looking at her now, his body tense, ready, waiting. His weight was balanced on the balls of his feet, his arms slightly (hesitantly?) extended toward her. They stayed like that for a few moments until Alice carefully moved her hand away from the collar's latch and Robin breathed a tiny sigh of relief.

But they were still looking at each other. Alice knew she should probably break the contact, and that she was probably acting strangely by not doing so. But her mind and body were like mismatched cogs; everything she should be doing was theoretical, as meaningless as fantasies, and so she did nothing.

Robin didn't look away either, which Alice guessed was probably also weird. His expression was odd too, like a toddler staring into the eye of a giant blue whale at the aquarium. Scared, curious, and…seemingly at a loss? Or maybe she was more like a circus freak, and he was the awed, intimidated observer. Either way, she didn't really care. Either way, it didn't really matter.

But then it mattered, because his hands were no longer reaching toward her; they were on his face, wedging themselves between skin and mask, pulling it away, rubbing off the adhesive goo still stubbornly stuck around his eyes.

Her heart did a funny little jump, like an old car grazing the edge of a pothole. He always covered his eyes. Always, always, always…

Robin coughed, his crystal blue gaze finally shifting away. "I, uh… I've got a headache," he justified awkwardly, "and I figured that it doesn't really matter since you already know…everything…" He cleared his throat, winding his limp mask between his fingers.

"Doesn't…matter," Alice repeated weakly, because it didn't anymore.

"*Genau," Robin muttered. Alice didn't ask what that meant. It didn't matter either.

"We don't hate you," Dick lied suddenly. She could tell it was a lie. Or maybe it was more like an invention. That would make Dick an inventor, and she liked the sound of that more.

"Mmm," Alice responded, watching the domino mask continue to slither through his fingers. She could feel his gaze on her again, settling on her shoulders like a soggy blanket. Uncomfortable. Consuming.

Hmm.

"We are just trying to be careful, you know?" Dick continued. "So that no one gets hurt."

Alice crouched closer into her knees, raking her fingers over the raw spot on her arm. It was warm to the touch. And sticky, like the remaining bits of glue still clinging to Dick's cheek. "M'gann," she whispered hoarsely.

Alice heard Dick take a deep breath through his nose, and his mask suddenly snagged in his rigid fingers. "Yes," he confirmed, and Alice could hear the hatred seething in his voice.

"Angry," Alice pointed out. She was apparently down to single-word sentences now, not that it mattered. She could be Shakespeare and it wouldn't make a lick of difference. Except that she would be long dead. Hmm.

There was a long pause, and Dick stiffly wrung his mask in his hands. "Yes."

"Okay," Alice accepted. "Okay."

Dick moved, leaving Alice staring at empty air. The chair beside her squeaked. She expected silence then. Instead, words seemed to explode from someone on her right. Someone? Dick, of course.

"An old villain of Batman's once asked him the difference between a murderer using his car to run down innocent people and a seizure victim crashing and killing a family," Dick recalled quickly, as if he was desperate to prolong the inevitable return of silence. "After all, they were both technically killers. He figured that, at the end of the day, the difference didn't matter much to anyone.

"But it matters!" he insisted in the same breath, a fisted glove coming down hard on his knee. "It has to, or else everything we work for is for nothing. Because people can be innocent and guilty at the same time." Dick shifted in his seat, possibly from craning his neck to see Alice's face around her boney knees. "In the gray, that's where we have to look sometimes. Because it isn't always black and white."

Alice looked at him from beneath knotted locks of caramel. "But I'm…still guilty."

Dick nodded, clenching his fists on his thighs. "But you're still innocent."

She pursed her lips, her eyes stinging with invisible tears. "But you're still _angry_."

Dick leaned forward, his polar eyes stabbing into her own. "Yes. But you're still innocent."

l-l-l

Her German was getting worse. At first Robin thought that she might've been using some sort of dialect he was unused to, or that she was just limited due to the damage done to her throat, but now he was sure. Her grammar and vocabulary were deteriorating, which left only one question:

If she fully forgot how to speak German…what would happen?

Gun to his head (an expression Robin hated from experience), Robin would put his money on her English returning. After all, her grammar was showing traces of some English sentence structures, and she had started to use literally translated English phrases instead of their correct German counterparts. Still, there was a chance she would simply switch to a completely different language, or even go silent altogether. As much as he hated to admit it, it was simply too early to tell.

Not to mention this sort of thing shouldn't even be possible in the first place! Sure, there were cases of people suddenly adopting a foreign accent after a bad hit to the head, but spontaneously utilizing a whole other language _without realizing it?_ It was like her brain was translating her English without her permission or acknowledgement before it ever got to her mouth.

Robin sighed. Another mystery needing a solution. _This girl…_

He looked at her then, eyes bare. She seemed to be taking his words into consideration, her brow furrowed from some sort of internal discussion. He was thankful for that; she had obviously been careening through some kind of emotional tailspin. And as angry as he was, he didn't want her feeling like that. It simply wasn't in his nature, not when she quickly seemed to be more victim than culprit.

But boy, was he angry. She had hurt his friends, put their secrets at risk, wedged divisions between the Team. Things had been going so smoothly (or as smoothly as could be expected) before she showed up, but now everything was spinning out of control. Bruce was constantly on edge, Aqualad was now struggling to keep the Team from shattering, M'gann was desperately trying to hold herself together, Superboy was a bad comment away from going off the rails, and _God only knew_ where Artimis and Wally were! Not to mention Robin himself had just crumpled under another wave of crippling self-doubt in front of his leader, a theoretically therapeutic experience that instead only left him feeling guiltier for adding to Kaldur's already lofty burden.

And this girl was the reason for it all. He wanted so badly to hate her, if not just for simplicity's sake. But try as he might, he couldn't see her as just another enemy. Enemies weren't so lost, guilt-ridden, or fragile. They didn't screech apologies or graciously follow rules. They weren't so open with their lives, their trust, their hearts.

"*Mein…Name ist Alice," the girl whispered, jarring Robin from his mental monologue.

Robin looked at her for a long minute, trying to suppress the hope budding in his chest. Could it be possible? Could she have actually remembered her real name? Or maybe, he thought as a sliver of fear pierced his gut, she never really forgot it in the first place. Despite Robin's inclination toward the contrary, she could still be a spy, strategically biding her time, doling out crumbs of information to regain his trust…

He resisted the urge to lick his lips. "Really?

"*Echt," she confirmed hoarsely. "Mein Geburtsname...ist mir entfallen, so ich wähle Alice."

Robin forced a small smile, his hope evaporating. She still had no idea was her actual name was; Alice was just her choice as a substitute. Which was great, really. He just had to make his anger and frustration get with the program and stop wrestling in his gut.

He looked up just in time to see her face fall. "Sorry," she murmured, hunching so deeply that her nose became wedged between his knees. "*Er macht nichts."

Guilt wormed into the emotional cocktail already simmering in his gut. "No, it –it does matter," he responded, his voice unconvincing and drained. "Congrats."

Alice didn't respond, making Robin rub his forehead in quiet exasperation. Where the hell was Red Tornado? He couldn't handle this for much longer.

"Alice, I know it seems bad right now," he offered reluctantly, trying to ignore the irrational sense of betrayal lining his throat and whispering _Judas_ in his ear. "But it's going to get better, okay?"

"*Das ist Kuhscheiße," she swore bitterly. Robin stared at her, his lips slightly parted in surprise. The girl _–Alice,_ he reminded himself _–_ was typically so polite. He had only ever heard her swear on accident, and even then she immediately apologized. Her blatantly calling his assurances bullshit was obviously a whole different game. "Kennst du warum?"

"Do I know why it's bullshit?" Robin repeated dumbly. "It's not-"

She unfolded herself angrily, spinning to face him. "Ich _habe_ keine Problem, Robin!" she shrieked, her voice splintering under the force. "Ich _bin_ das Problem!"

l-l-l

"I don't _have_ a problem, Robin! I _am_ the problem!"

Robin continued to stare at her. She wanted to apologize, but the distress whirling within her kept it from reaching her lips.

" _I_ attacked Superboy and _I_ hurt M'gann!" She scoffed sarcastically, feigning sudden remembrance. "Oh! And let's not forget; I attacked you too!" She wheezed, trying to breathe through the mounting pain all over her body.

"And you can't fix me," she concluded crisply, her eyes burning as much as her throat. "And I can't fix me. So don't tell me it's going to be okay."

Silence.

Then:

"You know, that's pretty selfish."

Alice's mouth dropped open and she felt her anger whoosh out of her. "What?"

Robin shifted back in his seat, looking exhausted. "This ability of yours, you keep talking about it like it's some sort of disease that needs to be cured." She watched his glacial eyes study her. "Are you completely blind to the amazing things you can do?"

She stared at him, completely taken aback. "I _hurt_ people, Robin."

"I haven't forgotten," he retorted dryly, taking a deep breath. "But you could do a lot of good if you wanted to, with some help and practice. But that'll never happen if you don't stop treating every skill you discover like a new demon to exorcise."

She bit her lip. Robin's words were offering her a rosy future to strive for, one with friends and purpose and people she could help. It was beautiful –painfully, heart-wrenchingly, overpoweringly beautiful.

She shook her head, casting the image away. "You don't get it," she rasped. "I'm a time bomb. This time it was Conner, but who knows who's next?" She loosely drew her legs in once more, her arms crossed in front of her. Her right index finger impulsively found the raw spot on her arm again and began to scratch. "I could turn on anyone," she confessed, her voice audibly straining. "I could hurt M'gann again, you again, with my mind or who knows how else!" She met his eyes, steely and cool. "And you want me to be okay with that?"

Robin opened his mouth, but no words emerged.

She shook her head again, cutting his silence off at the root. "Call it selfish or wasteful or shortsighted or whatever you want, but until tonight…" She sighed tiredly, her lips tensing. "You guys were the only people I can remember calling friends, you know?" She felt her cheeks grow warm and she rolled her shoulders in embarrassment, her eyes casting off to the side. "And while the feeling might not go both ways anymore, I still think of you guys as my friends. And I won't let myself –or my _demons_ – hurt any of you, no matter what."

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed it, and as always I appreciate any feedback. Just in case the translations aren't clear enough in the story (and if this is the case please let me know), here they are:**

 **1) "Genau" is a very German word, if that makes any sense. It means something along the lines of "clearly" or "right" and Germans (at least the ones I've talked to) say it all the time. It's very conversational, so Robin accidentally slips and response to Alice in German (since that is what he's hearing).**

 **2) "Mein Name ist Alice" means "My name is Alice." Typically one would say "Ich bin Alice" or "Ich heiße Alice" (I am called Alice), but her German is deteriorating into English a bit. This phrasing might be more right than I know, but it is also more like English, which is what I was going for anyway.**

 **3) "Echt. Mein Geburtsname...ist mir entfallen, so ich wähle Alice." = "Really. My birth name escapes me, so I choose Alice."**

 **4) "Er macht nichts." In this case, "er" is referring to the masculine word "Name," so it means "it" instead of "he." The full sentence translates literally as "It makes nothing" and correctly as "It doesn't matter."**

 **5) "Das ist Kuhscheiße. Kennst du warum?" = "That is bullshit. Do you know why?"**

 **And that's all! Message me with any questions or (if you know German) corrections. Although her German is not supposed to be perfect at this point, so keep that in mind!**


	13. Crises

Hello, hello! I know it's been too long, but in my defence, I did at least break 3000 words again! I hope you all like this latest chapter -things have _finally_ started to really get rolling! Also, I'm super sorry for not responding to all the messages/reviews. My life has been pretty messy for a while, and I'm just starting to once again get back on track. In any case, please know that I do read and appreciate EVERY comment you guys send my way!

I hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 12**

It had taken another three hours before Red Tornado had returned from his personal business. Alice had fallen back asleep at that point, exhausted by her (hopefully) involuntary attack and the resulting emotional whirlwind. Finally being relieved of his supervising duties, Robin had all but fled the Cave.

What he was feeling –it was too much, too complicated. He felt like he was caught in a web of his own emotions, with one thread just melting into another, without any distinct end or beginning. He was filled to the brim with paradoxical anger and pity, compassion and spite, distrust and loyalty, despair and determination. It was all rotting inside of him, corroding his insides, his mind.

But worst was the guilt –because he had brought Alice to the Cave, befriended her, risked his friends' safety…

And because, most of all, he still wanted to help her.

And he just couldn't bear to face his teammates like that –especially not Conner or M'gann. He couldn't see the fury and betrayal in their eyes as he pretended not to defend their attacker. He just couldn't.

So he fled. It hadn't been hard –they were either all asleep or actively avoiding him as well. Either way, the result had benefited him immensely.

And as he dashed his way through the hazy streets of Gotham pre-dawn, he silenced his emotions. He focused on his feet slapping the soggy pavement, and the light touch of mist as it wetted his hair. He focused on the shadows around him.

But most of all, he focused on running as fast as he could to the nearest Zeta tube.

l-l-l

He didn't know exactly why he was headed toward Wally's house. Yes, it was partly fueled by his compulsion to get as far away from the Cave as possible, but the logic seemed to stop there. After all, he could've just gone home, or even distracted himself with a therapeutic solo patrol around Gotham.

And yet here he was, in full Robin gear, slithering from shadow to shadow as he sprinted his way up Wally's suburban cul-de-sac.

There were about a million things wrong with what he was doing –most notably that he was about to arrive at his best friend's house as Gotham's Boy Wonder, which would seem incredibly strange to anyone who managed to catch a lucky glimpse. Christ, he could only imagine the lecture Batman would give him if he ever found out.

But Robin –no, _Dick–_ couldn't help it. He needed to talk to someone, to simply spill his guts and let someone else pick through the contents –someone who wouldn't immediately blame or console him. Someone who would just fucking _listen_ for once.

Wally: his friend with or without the cape. It had to be him.

Robin smoothly scaled the decorative picket fence outside Wally's residence, leaping from its height to a sturdy oak in the yard. From there, he effortlessly dashed up the oak's branches until he was level with Wally's second-story bedroom window.

Balancing gingerly on an extended branch, he rapped his knuckled softly on the glass, squinting futilely to see the room inside. When it was evident a reply was not coming, he huffed and glanced at his gauntlet, letting the holographic watch spring into existence. 6:54 am. Looks like someone slept through his alarm again.

Wedging his fingers underneath the window frame, Robin rolled his eyes in exasperation as it gave effortlessly. _Sure, safety's overrated anyway!_ Robin internally quipped. _Who needs locks anymore, right Walls?_

Once the window was open, he glided soundlessly inside. The young hero was annoyed now –both at himself for all the shit he had caused and at Wally's carelessness. Fortunately he knew just the outlet for his aggravation; after all, what better way to teach the little Roadrunner a lesson than a good, old fashion scare? All he had to do was not wake the slumbering teen until he was right over his bed…

And then Robin took his first real look around, and all thoughts of educational prankery evaporated from his mind.

Wally's room looked like a warzone. His old-fashioned wooden desk was cracked down the middle, and his desktop lay shattered on the other side of the room. Various pictures and knickknacks littered the ground above a layer of discarded clothes, most sprinkled with a dark substance Robin dreaded was blood. The olive walls were riddled with holes the size of fists and larger, and five long, thin trails of red winded horrendously out of the doorway. They looked just like the fingers of a hand, like claw marks. _Oh God._

Panic lanced Robin's heart as imaginary sirens trilled in his brain. He took a hesitant step toward the door, wanting desperately to exit the gory scene, only for a small blinking light to halt his advance.

Wally's digital alarm clock was flashing urgently from beside the shattered bedside table. Neon numbers still dutifully announced his wake up time of 6:30, unaware its owner had already been roused through other means. _Christ,_ Robin cursed, his mind whirling as it digested the new information. It had already been over a half-hour since whatever had happened, yet no one had received any sort of distress call. And with no medical aid, thirty minutes was more than enough time to bleed out, even for someone without Wally's hyper-accelerated heart rate.

Robin instinctively pulled out his retractable staff, extending it only partway to compensate for the tight fighting quarters. He allowed himself a small moment to gather comfort from the weapon's familiar weight, but the weapon felt thin in his hands, as though it was made out of Styrofoam instead of tempered steel. Dismissing the observation as anxiety-fueled paranoia, he gripped it tighter and advanced.

Peering into the hall, Robin tried to control his ragged breaths, his spiraling thoughts, his gnawing sense of dread, of horror, because this was Wally's house, and it was so deathly quiet, and there was so much blood, and _oh God oh God oh God_.

The morbid trail of thick red was wider in the hallway, morphing from five streaks to a wide stream. Robin felt his breath hitch, and he desperately tried not to calculate just how many quarts of blood it would take to kill such a thin, lanky guy like Wally…

And then he saw him, sprawled on his back in the middle of the foyer, almost directly below where Robin stood.

Terror icing his veins, Robin bounded over the banister, landing awkwardly in a panic-induced jumble. He knelt to the right of his best friend, his hands shaking as he surveyed the devastation enveloping the fallen hero's body.

Wally's goofy Einstein-themed pajamas were drenched in his own blood, making it stick to his pallid skin like a soupy cocoon. His left leg was bent unnaturally underneath him at the knee, and his right shoulder was obviously dislocated; his soggy pajama top had sunk morbidly into the empty socket between his neck and shoulder, as if desperately trying to fill the gap. Wally's swollen nose bled freely, mingling with the rivulets of blood leaking from his lips. Random gashes cut cleanly into his clothes and below, the deepest decorating his chest, both of his thighs, and his exposed right shin.

"Wally?" Robin half-shrieked while shakily grasping his friend's chilled face with both hands. After getting no response, he urgently taped Wally's cheek several times, trying to rouse him, but Wally's head only lolled limply in his grasp.

Laying his friend's head gently on the floor, Robin leaned over to rest an ear on his chest, struggling to hear a heartbeat over the roaring in his ears.

He never got the chance.

A muted _pop!_ echoed in the small entryway, and Robin barely had enough time to raise his head before every muscle in his back unanimously seized. The hero let out an unstoppable, foreign moan as his tendons knotted tighter and tighter, his back bucking into an involuntary arch. His arms hardened into steel, retracting themselves forcefully against his chest. His mind trilled with non-thoughts, of metal static and chaotic agony. The electricity lashed through his spine, running its jagged claws through the flesh and muscle left twitching in its wake.

Robin knew what this was; hell, Batman had tazed him before for training purposes, but this was different. Its voltage was obviously much higher than those allowed by law enforcement or affordable to petty crooks, moving far past pain and violently hijacking the victim's central nervous system. His combative skills were completely useless until his attacker released the trigger, his body paralyzed like a kitten held by the scruff in his mother's maw.

Robin's moan elevated into a full-blown scream as the torture crept on. His body was being torn apart from the inside, shredded to smithereens by the unseen force coursing unrelentingly through his back. He tried to reach behind him, to rip out the probes he knew were imbedded in his skin, but his arms wouldn't budge. It was as if his entire body was simply ignoring him, choosing instead to devoutly obey the tazer's electric demands.

And then it was over. Robin immediately sagged in relief and exhaustion, his head flopping back onto Wally's bloody chest. His body still twitched in micro-convulsions, sending echoes of pain coursing through his beaten muscles. He greedily sucked in air, surprised to find that he had forgotten to breathe during the attack.

"Don't move."

He didn't recognize the voice, but that hardly mattered. Regardless of who was holding the tazer, he was completely, royally, horrifically screwed. As much as Robin wanted to disobey, the attacker's order was completely redundant: his body was in utter agony from the shock (despite the fact the actual electricity has stopped, his muscles remained frustratingly keen on tearing themselves apart). Apart from that was the exhaustion –he had scaled entire skyscrapers and had felt more chipper afterward than this. And even if he weren't feeling like week old road-kill, those probes were still lodged somewhere in his body –one sudden move and his captor would only have to hold down a trigger to reduce him back into a shrieking idiot before he could say "Freeze, villain!"

Still, barring all that and he somehow miraculously was able to make it clear, he would be leaving his possibly dying best friend at the mercy of this unknown threat.

 _Shit!_ he cursed internally, scarcely believing he could be so careless. He should have checked his surroundings, called for reinforcements, alerted the Team, anything instead of leaving himself so open! _Shit, shit, shit!_

Before he was finished silently berating himself, two shins strode into view, doubling the known enemies in the room. Careful to mind the triggerman's command, Robin slid his eyes up to meet his new attacker's face.

"Hello, Robin," the masked man greeted smoothly, his voice robotically distorted into an unnatural series of highs and lows. Apart from the black shield obstructing his identity, the villain looked entirely out of place as he loomed over the young hero; he wore an impeccable, expensive-looking black suit, complete with a silk tie and gleaming shoes –the type of dress someone wore to the opera, not a slaughter. "I'm so glad you could make it."

Robin's heart pounded in his ears. Judging by how extensively the man was guarding his identity, he was fairly confident Robin could otherwise ID him -which meant his identity was important, possibly detrimental to his plans if discovered. Without access to his face or voice, identifying the mystery man would be difficult –although not altogether impossible. Robin just needed to keep him talking, get a good grasp on his mannerisms, his temper, his reactions. Robin barred his teeth, baiting his attacker. "Pleasures all mine, Darthie," he sneered venomously. "Now what have you done to-"

"Oh, nothing he won't survive, I assure you," Robo-voice dismissed with a lazy wave of his hand, ignoring Robin's slight. "But one wrong move and my friend will change that."

Robin held in a sigh of relief, choosing instead to glare poisonously at the man's glossy shield, hoping he was correctly estimating the location of his eyes. "What do you want? We're useless as hostages," he bluffed. "The League isn't so easily manipulated."

"You think so little of me," No-face suavely mocked, absentmindedly rolling Wally's head to the side with his toe. "I desire nothing so nefarious, Wonder Boy; I only want what was stolen from me returned. And for that I need a couple of extra…ah…" his venomous smile widened, "pawns."

Rage erupted behind Robin's eyes, his plan of rational observation forgotten. "Wally and I are not your pawns!" he roared, prompting the triggerman to noisily shift his hold on the weapon. Robin's chest ached viciously at the sudden outburst, but he masked the pain behind his vehemence.

"Well, not the only ones, naturally," the man quipped, his shoulder shaking in what Robin guessed was a mocking chuckle. "But I'm afraid the time for talking has expired. You'll know the rest soon enough."

Apparently done with his mocking, the villain strode around the immobilized hero, halting decisively behind him. No longer able to see the monster, Robin heard him kneel directly behind him, one of his knees brushing the outside of his right leg. This wasn't good –Robin needed him talking, not acting. _Think, Robin! Think think think!_

"You will have about 30 seconds before being completely incapacitated," the man declared, padding his hand up Robin's back before unceremoniously detaching the hero's cape and wedging his fingers between skin and collar. "If you value the little speedster's life," he continued, "you will use that time to call for aid."

A terrible combination of trepidation and fury clawed at Robin's skin, begging him to attack the madman; it was only Wally's faint heartbeat that reminded him of the risks and convinced him to stay still. He needed to delay whatever this psycho had planned; he still hadn't been able to peg him, his motives, his behavior, his _anything_.

The masked man's hand curtly forced the hero's head forward until his chin met his chest, and Robin felt his heart flutter nervously as even more of his neck was exposed.

"What are you, some kind of perv?" Robin taunted, hoping to distract him from his creepy examination. Instead of a reply, something cold and wet was wiped along his scruff, sending shivers down his twitching spine. "Hey! What the hell are you- AGH!" Robin's question was interrupted by his own snarl of pain. A small knife was deftly slicing into the nape of his neck, starting about an inch below his hairline and ending just above his shoulders.

A beefy hand planted itself firmly on Robin's forehead and cheek, pinning him against Wally's fluttering chest. The calloused fingers squeezed unnecessarily as a reminder to keep still, but Robin barely noticed.

The young hero rasped wordlessly in pain, his body twitching as he fought every instinct demanding he _get the hell away from there_. Forcing his beaten body not to flail uselessly, he managed to hiss, "What the fuck are you doing to me?"

In lieu of an answer –or even a mocking retort– his mystery attacker simply cut deeper into the tender flesh, through the nerves and tissues, until he finally scraped bone. Robin gasped, inexplicably unfallen tears blurring his vision. He felt the warm ooze of blood roll down the side of his neck, likely mixing with Wally's bloodied chest.

Then something cold and hard and _foreign_ was shoved into the cut, and Robin's vision went white with pain. Vaguely, he felt someone putting a knee in his tormented back, and another grabbing his left wrist –the other arm was already half-pinned under the triggerman's weight. He felt Wally stiffen beneath his cheek, likely in response to the burden being forced against his already-beaten chest. _I couldn't stay still_ , Robin recognized mournfully, his muddied thoughts sluggish and sloppy. _I couldn't stay still, and now Wally's paying for it._

Robin breath hitched again as the villain sewed the gash closed, his tiny, precise stitches sending bolts of lightning up the boy's spine. Then something cold and gooey was slathered onto the sutured wound, followed by what Robin suspected was a bandage. He wanted to ask again what the hell they had done to him, but he was barely controlling the nausea rolling in his gut as it was. Too much exertion could send him over the edge, effectively ensuring Wally a body-wide infection. _Keep your cool, Grayson,_ he ordered internally, desperate to calm himself and spare Wally additional injury. _They want you both alive, so just keep your shit together and you'll figure a way out of this._

Apparently finished with whatever horrific scheme he had prepared, the villainous duo finally released their victim. Gasping, the shaking teen could only watch as the steely madman methodically wiped his bloodied hands on Robin's detached cape before dutifully re-securing it to his shoulders.

Robin seized in agony as the new weight was added to his quaking frame, a pitiful whimper escaping his lips. Much to his frustration, the welled tears finally rolled from his eyes without regard to their owner's wishes. He wheezed uncontrollably, trembling like a child frightened by a storm.

"30 seconds, Robin –and the clock is ticking," the masked man reminded him coolly, his voice pitching robotically. Wally's front door clicked closed.

Robin breathed deeply, trying to comprehend what just happened to him, but his frenzied thoughts were cut short by a ragged breath beneath him. He could still hear the thrum of Wally's heart, but it was weak and strained. He needed medical attention _now,_ and if what No-face had said was true, Robin was already running out of time.

Holding his breath for stability, Robin raised a trembling hand to the communicator in his ear. "Robin to…Christ… _anyone,"_ he breathed, hoping he had correctly selected the broadest frequency. _"_ Requesting immediate medical aid to Kid Flash's civilian residence." He took a deep, shuddering breath, his eyelids dropping heavily. His body was paradoxically relaxed, and he couldn't seem to will himself upright. The thought should have alarmed him, but that emotion seemed far too distant and obscure to matter. "Threat level…alpha," he continued, his words slurring uncontrollably as his arm flopped to ground. "I repeat: Robin to… anyone out there. Please, Wally's _hurt._ Requesting…medical aid…KF's house. Robin to anyone… _we need help_."

* * *

Special thanks to Major Sprinkles for pointing out that I wrote "pons" not "pawns." If you see a typo/mistake (and have the time), please shoot me a message! It is always very appreciated.


	14. Escalations

**Hello everyone! First off, let me apologize for waiting so long to update this story. It's been going a little rough recently in the life department and, coupled with the difficulty of writing this chapter, resulted in a ridiculously long writing time. Even without the external stressors, it still would've taken quite a bit of time. I must've rewritten this chapter a dozen times by now -and I mean _completely_ rewritten, like whole different emotions, reactions, settings, POVs, situations, etc etc. No matter how I wrote it, I couldn't seem to make the characters believable -something I value highly and can typically be proud of. I _think_ (oh god, _please_ ) that I finally got it right here. I'm still not totally sure; I hope can I get some feedback from you guys on this. **

**On the plus side, this chapter broke 5,000 words. So I hope that's a positive!**

 **Speaking of feedback, I've been terrible with responding to comments and questions. Please know that I absolutely DO read everything, and it always serves to brighten my day. I just couldn't justify replying when I hadn't finished a chapter in so long (because that logic totally makes sense), but now that I have I'll likely be responding soon. If I don't, however, feel free to send me a reminder (and please know that every message is highly appreciated!).**

 **Thirdly, I wanted to alert you all that I've started using the interrobang! It's a punctuation mark that combines a question mark and an exclamation mark and looks like "‽", to be used in situations like "Are you kidding me‽"** **and "Are you** **okay‽". I'm not gonna lie; I'm pretty excited about it!**

 **Lastly, (and I understand some might disagree with this) but I know that America seems to be continuing its rocket descent down the insanity staircase, ass over tea kettle. If anyone wants to talk about it, please shoot me a message. I'd love to explain, elaborate on, or debate any political events/crises (I'm a poli sci major; it's in my blood). I just want everyone, especially those outside the U.S., to know that Americans are incredibly diverse. Or, in summary, we are not all Donald Trump.**

 **Please enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter 13

Even for a Speedster, Barry Allen's heart was racing at exceptional speeds as he tore through Central City's pre-dawn streets. He couldn't get Robin's call out of his head, the naked fear splitting through the young boy's pleas, the way his strained voice pitched when he said Wally was hurt…

The way the line had gone deathly quiet ever since.

Barry swallowed hard as panic exploded behind his eyes. He was the closest one to the West's house –he lived with Iris on the other end of the city. If anyone could save the young heroes, it was him. So he had to get there, had to be fast enough, before they- they-

Unable to complete the thought, Barry pushed his body harder, his limbs a faint blur of red light as he dashed toward his nephew's house. It barely took a minute, but to Barry the trip felt like ages. The Wests' suburban yard suddenly stretched for miles as he sped up the lawn, chunks of grass and dirt flying in his wake. Controlling his unfocused momentum as best as he could, the Flash burst thought the door, an unstoppable cry erupting from his lips at the horrific scene that greeted him.

Blood. That's all Barry could see. It coated the stairway, the floor, while flecks decorated the walls and ceiling. Two small figures huddled in the center of the devastation, unmoving on the soaked wood. Robin and Kid Flash. Dick and Wally.

A hysterical sob clawed its way up Barry's throat.

 _Oh my God._

And then Barry was moving, tapping his earpiece and gently checked Robin's vitals. "Flash to Batman, Flash to Batman!" he nearly screeched, relieved to find the boy's pulse. "Batman, Batman, comeoncomeoncomeon!"

Satisfied with Robin's stable condition, he gingerly removed the Boy Wonder from atop his nephew.

And then Barry's world came crashing down.

Wally's body looked like it had been put through a meat grinder. His right shoulder was severely dislocated, and judging by the discoloration and swelling surrounding his elbow, he likely suffered from an avulsion fracture as well. The young boy's face was a mess of dark purple bruises and dried blood, an unwelcome transformation from Wally's typically rosy, freckled cheeks. Long, deep gashes decorated nearly every visible surface of his pallid body, although the bladed attack was obviously focused on the boy's legs and chest. His left knee was broken, allowing his leg to be bent underneath him at a sickening angle.

Dread oozed over the panic fraying Barry's heart. Whoever had done this knew Wally was a Speedster –they had probably attacked his legs while he slept, leaving the poor kid little chance of escaping the onslaught.

The hero reached out a trembling hand, resting it fearfully on Wally's bloody chest. _Oh God. Please be okay, Kid,_ he pleaded internally.

Gradually, Barry became aware of a small voice echoing through his communicator, but he couldn't seem to unglue his hand from Wally's incomprehensibly still chest. No heart beat. No breath. Pooling blood.

Tears raging from his eyes, Barry clasped the back of his hand, locked his elbows and drove the heel of his palm solidly into Wally's breast. Another forceful shove followed soon after as he attempted to keep time with his own Speedster heart. After sixty rapid thrusts, he tilted Wally's head back, pinching his nose as he shoved two forceful breaths into his nephew's failing lungs. Tears blurred his vision as Wally remained inert, but he shook them away and began compressions once more. He had only reached count number twenty-six when a sudden screeching wail pierced his ear.

Barry cringed from the sudden noise, one hand continuing CPR while another clutched the shrieking comm. It stopped as suddenly as it began, replaced by the rough growl of an alarmed Batman.

"Allen, can you hear me? Allen? Allen?"

Barry blinked, startled by the use of his real name. Batman must have been trying to contact him for a while. How much time had passed?

"Allen, do you copy? What's your situation?"

Barry once again doubled over, propelling another lungful into Wally's mouth as he desperately gathered his scattered thoughts. A second sob wrenched his frame as he began another set of compressions.

"Barry!" Batman's disembodied voice shouted into his ear. "Answer me!"

"Bruce," the Speedster croaked, tears slapping the backs of his hands. "Bruce, it's Robin and Wally."

Once again forced to inflate his partner's lungs, Barry could almost hear Bruce's heart crashing through his feet. He forced a second breath, checked Wally's heartbeat, and started again.

"What happened?" Batman asked evenly, but Barry could tell his calm demeanor was failing him. "Where are you?"

"Wally's house," Barry replied, his voice straining. "Robin's unconscious, but he looks all right."

"And Wally?"

Just hearing his cooling nephew's name aloud drove a spear through Barry's heart. Another sob erupted from his lips. "Not okay. Oh God, Bruce, I don't think he's-"

 _Thump._

Barry froze, his trembling fingers tentatively dusting the surface of Wally's chest.

1-1-1

Alice lay on her side, ravaged by a frenzied stream of emotions. They kept cycling through her body, some lasting hours while others just seconds. She was beginning to recognize them in a strange, detached way –anxiety stretched her muscles taunt, like over-tuned strings on a violin, while the acidity of self-loathing and the slime of dread roiled violently in her stomach. Sorrow was thinner than the others, but it encased her body like a second skin, chaffing until she was raw and burning.

Worst, however, was the helplessness. It seeped into her pores, filling her body with helium until her heart caught on her ribcage like a lost balloon batting the ceiling of an empty gymnasium. She would soon just float away, gravity itself growing indifferent, her direction at the mercy of even the gentlest breeze.

Alice sniffled, rubbing her face slightly deeper into the thin pillow. Sure, the scene was hyperbolic, yet she found the mental image lodged in the forefront of her mind nonetheless. Even if she wasn't floating up to the sky like some angst-animated bubble, she still had no control over her life, over her actions or her abilities. She had no idea what life had in store for her next, yet she could be certain it wouldn't be her own actions that led there; she would simply be an object in a story masquerading as her own.

And given what she was capable of, this was a whole lot bigger than just her. Alice's simple existence endangered everyone around her -people she still (although perhaps obtusely) regarded as friends. The thought of hurting them again was unbearable; they had opened their lives to her, thrown their hearts into helping her –but what choice did she possibly have? She wasn't permitted to leave, and it seemed like only a matter of time before she lost control once more. Even suicide seemed like an unrealistic option –after all, how could she possibly gather the supplies and commit the act without someone spotting her? All of the med bay's drugs and tools were kept under lock and key, and she didn't have a rope or stool or anything…

And so she was left with no options, no way to possibly control her future. She could only wait, praying she wouldn't wake one day with literal blood dripping from her hands…

An incredible force lashed through her mind, tangling her thoughts with its fraying energy. Alice gasped, her heart beginning to pound from the vestige of foreign fear. Panting in confusion, the last remnants of the force slipped through her mental fingers.

 _What the-?_

And then it hit again, knocking her head back like a solid blow to the jaw. Alice squeezed her eyes shut, quickly attempting to rush into the inexplicable sensation like a child into fog. For all of its strangeness, she couldn't deny the familiarity…

Once again it dissipated, leaving only a waning sense of alien terror and indigenous recognition behind. Alice waited, mentally crouched in anticipation for the next blow. She breathed deeply, a steadying breath, awaiting the lightning-like flash of existence –

And there it was, racing up through the base of her skull and into her psyche. Alice inhaled sharply though her nose at the pain, leaping –or some strange mental equivalent of leaping – at the bolt. She felt it slam into her again, somewhere between her left pinkie and right hip, just before it wrapped itself around her body, soaked into her skin, and crackled away.

What it left behind wasn't actual thought –it was too abstract, too unguided to be something so distinct. It was more like an emotional undercurrent; the intense gut feelings one gets when the mind is too overwhelmed, groggy, or otherwise distracted to react intentionally.

Bewilderment. Terror. Pain.

Shock. Confusion.

The emotional impressions flashed through her, as if she was absorbing only the most basic, instinctual pieces of someone's life.

Alice froze, stupefied by the information. This wasn't just _anyone's_ life.

 _Holy shit._

"Robin!" she gasped, ignoring the adrenaline-numbed pain as she launched herself upright. Another bolt crackled through her mind, this time immediately revealing a fuller picture.

Horror. Desperation. Helplessness.

 _Wally?_

Panic.

Alice gritted her teeth from the pain, feeling as though she had just gnawed her way through an ice and tinfoil feast. "Robin's in trouble!" she cried at Red Tornado, who had yet to move despite obviously witnessing Alice's strange antics. "I –I'm not sure why, or –erghh!– _how,_ " she ground out as another flash whipped through her, "but Robin's in my head! And he needs help, like _right now!"_

Her hands were shaking as she removed the thin medical sheets from atop her legs, although she wasn't sure if it was from her still-fresh injuries, this new onslaught, or the resulting adrenaline. Her heart rate was accelerating as well, causing Alice to feel as though the organ was throwing itself against her ribcage like a feral beast against its pen.

Red Tornado advanced stiffly, reaching for her shoulders. "You must calm yourself. Robin is in no such dan-"

"No!" Alice replied, shaking her aching head desperately. She rolled sideways, sliding off the bedside opposite Tornado. Her bare feet hit the tile floor noiselessly, the cold feeling sticky on her soles. She watched the Leaguer nervously, colliding backwards with the far cot as she skittered away.

"No, wait, listen to me!" she entreated, balking at the metal image of Tornado tackling her to the ground. Another torrent of energy blasted through her mind. She held her head in pain, feeling as though it would explode as another heightened wave of fear and confusion wrapped around her. "Please, I'm telling the truth!" she avowed, her eyes shut tight as she cradled her skull. "He's in trouble!"

"You lie," Red replied unceremoniously. He didn't move towards her, obviously confident in his ability to restrain her at any time. "I am tuned into every League communication wavelength. There is no such distress."

"Why would I lie?" Alice appealed incredulously, her own fear mixing with Robin's. "Please, I can feel him, and I -I think Wally's in danger too!" She looked up beseechingly, her hands now clutched into fists at her sides. "You have to do something!"

Red Tornado studied her for a moment, analyzing her body in a way that made Alice feel like she was under an X-ray. She was practically vibrating with nervous adrenaline at this point, her white knuckles cracking as she fought the urge to fly out the door in search of faster help.

The silence was broken by yelling in the hallway, not too far from the med bay's doors. Alice swung her head in its direction, only for the doorway to be eclipsed by the dark figure of Batman.

"MOVE!" the hero bellowed, his cape fluttering angrily behind him. Entirely overwhelmed, Alice sputtered breathlessly before Batman's glacial glare sent her tripping over the cot behind her once more, frantically backpedaling away from the furious man.

Batman laid the inert figure of Robin on the bed previously blocked by Alice, the boy's pale forehead glistening with a feverish sweat. Some other figures strode in next, although despite the hectic environment, Alice found herself preoccupied as she automatically locked onto Robin's listless form.

Quite surprisingly (considering Batman's frenzied conduct), Robin's body held no signs of blunt abuse. Really, Alice thought, he didn't even look mildly hurt. In fact, if it weren't for the sickly sheen of his too pallid skin, she might've thought he was peacefully sleeping. Alice watched Batman check the boy's breathing, moving his head slightly from side to side, before turning to report to whoever else was in the room.

Robin's head lolled away from the girl, forcing his neck to crane into a heavy angle.

Time slowed down. Alice felt her skin grow soft and warm, as if a frost she hadn't ever realized existed had suddenly just melted away. She could see the slight bulge under the collar of Robin's uniform, the last bits of red irritated skin poking out from underneath. It was important, that bulge –she just knew it. She could feel it in her skull, in her teeth, in her spine.

Alice walked forward slowly, now completely oblivious to the chaotic scene playing out around her. All that mattered was that bump on Robin's neck –and what she knew was underneath.

She extended her arm, her trembling hand straining toward the unconscious hero. Her fingers tingled pleasantly with warmth, heat radiating from him like the soft glow off of a winter cottage's fireplace. She took another step, closing the distance, until the tips of her fingers just barely skinned the top of his collar and-

l-l-l

Robin awoke with a yell, bolting upright. He could hardly hear over the combined pounding in his head and chest, and his mouth felt like someone had packed it full of laundry sheets. Worst yet, he was pretty sure someone had also lit the nape of his neck on fire (however _that_ was possible) and beaten his back with a shovel for good measure.

He gasped, inhaling as much air as he could, before looking wildly throughout the room. Batman was towering over him, blocking much of the area to the left, seemingly shocked into inaction ( _What a sight!_ he thought giddily _)_ by his sudden and loud awakening. Red Tornado was holding a similarly gasping Alice to his right, although Robin wasn't sure if it was for support or restraint. Alice, for her part, was obviously only standing thanks to Tornado's grasp on both of her biceps, seeming to be nearly as bewildered as Robin felt.

Batman suddenly wrapped both of his gauntleted hands around Robin's shoulders, drawing the boy's eyes to his own. "Are you all right?" he inquired urgently, a piercing criticality underlining his words. Robin stared at his mentor blankly, fighting an urge to erupt into manic giggles. It was almost surreal to see the Batman so frazzled; Robin's scrambled mind struggled to understand it, mental gears spinning in place.

Unable to reply, Robin searched his elder's face, suspecting that the question probably made some kind of sense to everyone else. Taking a moment to finally grasp its meaning (and his own sensibility), he nodded, winced, and replied, "Mostly, I think –everything's a bit foggy. My…um…" he paused as the thought wafted in and out of obscurity, his forehead creased in frustration. "My neck hurts and…um…so does my back. What happened?"

"We're not sure," Batman answered through pressed lips, eying a still-huffing Alice. He still hadn't released Robin's shoulders, although now it seemed like some sort of protective measure.

Robin glanced in Alice's direction as well, not comprehending Batman's defensive demeanor. The girl could barely hold herself up, her harsh wheezing practically overwhelming her balance. Even with the high standards of bat-paranoia, it was ridiculous to say she constituted any sort of danger; she looked more asthmatic than threat.

"The Flash heard your distress call-" Batman began stoically.

"Distress call?" Robin interrupted, immediately refocusing on his mentor. The team's last mission had ended days ago, and even then it was only a simple observation assignment: classic high boredom, low risk job. There hadn't been any need to call for backup then or since –so why had he?

Batman nodded, straightening slowly _–hesitantly?-_ before stepping aside.

Dick immediately felt his stomach drop, unable to fully comprehend the revealed sight. Wally was hardly recognizable, his pale skin just patches of purple and blue drenched in red. His limbs were bent in horrific, unnatural angles, and deep gashes decorated most of his lower body.

Robin watched as Manhunter leaned over his best friend's beaten form, his eyes aglow, as the Flash finished attaching his nephew to a half-dozen monitors. An oxygen mask was gently placed over his broken nose and mouth, inexplicably reminding Robin of a burial shroud.

"Wally!" Robin cried, beginning to scramble out of bed, intent on racing toward his friend. Batman intercepted him before he could fully shift off of the mattress, sweeping back to obscure his view, and placed a halting palm on his chest.

Robin could tell Batman was speaking –he could feel the low rumble in the air- but the ringing in his ears was deafening. He could no longer feel the sticky warmth of his fever –instead he was swathed in an unbearable chill. He felt his whole body tremble as terrified tears began to brim in his eyes.

Not able to comprehend the hero's refusal, Robin twisted, trying to squirm around Batman's hand. In some deep part of his mind, Robin knew his attempts were futile; not only did the older hero have all the leverage, but Robin was also both physically and emotionally spent (not to mention awkwardly half-dangling off the edge of the bed). Still, he was overcome with an animalistic desperation. He needed to get to his friend, to help him, to make sure he was okay.

He _needed_ it.

Robin gripped Batman's wrist with both hands, resorting to a Hail Mary plan to simply pry the gloved hand off, when suddenly he was left clutching empty air. That was the only warning before he was lifted into the air by his armpits and plopped back onto the bed, much like a child into his highchair. He bounced a bit when his rear met the mattress, stunned.

"Robin, control yourself!" Batman barked, his lip slightly curled in either frustration or confusion. "Flash and Manhunter need to focus on saving Wally," the Dark Knight continued sharply. "They cannot have you needlessly distracting them or getting in their way. Understood?"

Blinking in surprise, the Boy Wonder felt his cheeks grow warm, suddenly keenly aware of his loss of control (as well as all who had witnessed it). Staring into his lap, he bit his lip, allowing the pain to distance himself from whatever bizarre trance of emotional shock he had fallen into.

Feeling significantly more stable, Robin nodded, this time not allowing himself to wince from the sharp pain that resulted. "Understood," the boy echoed, still not quite believing how easily he had lost control. "And I'm sorry," he admitted. He felt his gaze shift toward his friend, despite his view being fully obstructed by Batman's torso. "I guess I just saw how badly Walls was hurt and I…I…" The boy gulped, his throat suddenly tight. When he was confident he could keep his tears at bay, he met his mentor's gaze. "Batman," he began breathlessly, "what _happened?"_

It was a question he should have been able to answer himself. After all, if he had been the one to send out the distress call, he must have already seen Wally –so why couldn't he remember? He wracked his brain for another moment, but hunting down the memory was like picking pebbles out of a sandstorm. The whole experience left him feeling wildly disoriented; it was as if he had woken up in a parallel dimension, untethered to this version of his past. _Christ,_ he cursed internally. His mind hadn't felt this muddled since… _since_ …

Rage surged through Robin's body, his vision turning a deathly shade of red. He turned toward Alice, shaking with vehemence. " _You,"_ he snarled. Hatred sharpened the word into a dagger.

Alice shook her head vigorously in response, her wheezing seeming to have worsened. She was obviously caught off guard by his accusation –she looked to be overwhelmed by the situation in general- but Robin had had enough of her damn _innocence._ "Not me!" she gasped, "but-!"

 _"Liar!"_ Robin hissed, awkwardly lunging at the girl from atop the bed.

Robin felt his mentor catch him by the bicep, rudely stopping his momentum before he could get his feet fully underneath him. Robin grunted as he was slung –as gently as one _can_ be slung- back onto the hospital pillows, the muscles along his spine twitching erratically in response.

"Robin!" Batman exclaimed. "What has gotten into you‽"

"Are you kidding?" Robin cried, gesturing wildly toward Alice with his free hand. "That _snake_ obviously had something to do with this!"

"You are mistaken," Red Tornado responded evenly, Alice's head bobbing enthusiastically below his chin. "I have been monitoring her since you left the cave; not once did she attempt escape or removal of her collar." Robin clenched his shaking fists, anger and desperation scratching his skin.

"Robin, you need to calm down," Batman ordered, his resolute tone unable to fully conceal his distress. "You're letting your emotions overpower you _–focus."_

Eyes screwed shut, Robin shook his head –although not exactly in disagreement. Objectively, yes, he was letting his emotions (well, rage, mainly) run wildly out of control –but what else was he supposed to do? He couldn't just ignore the cruelty someone had inflicted on Wally. He couldn't pretend that someone hadn't attacked him, sliced through his skin and shattered his bones _._ He couldn't overlook that someone had _chosen_ to hurt his friend, because above all else, the fact remained that someone had.

And he would make them _pay._

Robin's breath caught in his throat. The thought was so alien…and yet irrefutably familiar as well. He could suddenly remember just how it felt to stand in front of Zucco, watching as the man pleaded for the very thing he had denied Dick's parents. He remembered the murderous oil scorching his veins and how right the idea of killing him felt, how _fitting_ , because how did this termite deserve to live when his parents never would again? He remembered how he had craved revenge, how every bone in his body had ached for it.

He wanted revenge. _Not justice._

"I'm _trying,"_ Robin replied through gritted teeth, fear elevating his voice ever so slightly. He took a deep breath, and then another, but his rage wouldn't dissipate. "I don't– I don't think I _can."_

"We need you to remember, Robin," Batman asserted steadily. Robin felt his grip on his bicep tighten. "The Flash found you and Wally together, which means you're our best chance at a lead. But first you have to calm down and clear your head."

Robin swallowed, screwing his eyes shut. He could feel the presence of his best friend filling the entire room –a smothering pressure, consuming. Despite not being able to study his friend's condition for more than a few moments, it was clear that the wounds were monstrous. Someone had to pay.

"There was a man," Alice huffed. "He was… _puff puff_ …wearing a black helmet, shaded… _gasp_ …so you couldn't see his face."

Robin's eyes popped open as his memory returned to him, flowing into his mind like bathwater through an unplugged drain. He could see it again. The demolished bedroom, the trail of blood. Wally, unconscious bleeding.

The tazer. The masked man.

"It was an ambush," Robin revealed, horrified as he relived the awful details. "He was waiting for me." He turned to the girl, trying to squash the rage that immediately surged through him. Suspicion filled his gaze. "How did you know that?"

"She did something to wake you up," Batman disclosed, and Robin was comforted by the reflection of distrust in his mentor's voice. "Sent you both into some kind of episode." He straightened and released Robin's arm before sliding over to the restrained girl. Robin watched Alice unconsciously try to sink into the unyielding metal torso of Red Tornado without success. Batman stared at her, his eyes cold and unforgiving. "What. Did. You. Do?"

Alice opened her mouth, but failed to emit anything other than a pitiful squeak. Robin felt his lip curl in disgust. Stupid girl.

Batman loomed over Alice and snarled, "Answer!" The command wasn't a yell; it didn't have to be.

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!" Alice sputtered, her eyes never wandering from Batman's terrifying gaze. "I started getting these weird flashes of thought-stuff from Robin just before you got here and then when I saw that thing in his neck I just sorta blanked out and touched it or something and now I understand it, I understand, I think I understand-"

"Understand _what_ _‽_ _"_ Batman seethed, seemingly moments from releasing his heretofore-restrained wrath, while Robin quickly padded around his neck. He was suddenly remembering exactly what that man had done to him, and just the thought of some foreign object inside his neck made his stomach roll.

"What the man wants!" Alice yelped, her chest heaving. She looked about a second away from having either another panic or an asthma attack, Robin couldn't be sure which.

Perhaps this is what caused Batman to shift slightly back onto his heels, relieving some of the pressure purposefully imposed on Alice. He stared at the girl a moment longer, his anger -but not the underlying intensity- gone.

Alice sucked in a deep breath, obviously trying to calm her nerves. "I know that man," Alice revealed, her voice still shaky, before immediately backpedaling. "Well, I guess it would be more accurate to say that I know _of_ him."

"And?" Red Tornado's robotic voice prodded from above her.

"And I think I…uh…um… stole something from him?" Alice replied, suddenly uncomfortable. She looked like she was about to start shifting from foot to foot if this conversation went on any longer, although Robin supposed professing to theft in a room full of extralegal crime fighters would do that.

The young hero pressed his lips together as he studied the girl, trying to hush the lizard-like anger hissing hatred in his ear. Alice was shady to say the least; totally deserving of every cynicism. Yet if he focused on concrete examples of character and put aside any speculative suspicions of treachery (and his unyielding rage), Alice had been cooperative and thankful, not to mention ever mindful of the rules. Objectively, Alice seemed to be a straight arrow –a goody-goody even; the exact opposite of a thief. Was it possible she was truly innocent?

Or, despite everything that had happened, was she still just playing him for a fool?

Robin narrowed his eyes. "You don't sound too sure," he pressed, his left hand still lingering on the bump. He felt dizzy as his fingers grazed stiches.

"I'm not," Alice admitted, sounding just the teeniest bit frustrated. "But after doing…" her right hand pin-wheeled at her hip for a moment, still awkwardly restrained at the bicep, " _whatever_ it is exactly that I did, I know he wants it. Like, really, _really_ bad."

"What is it? Money? Weapons?" Batman pressed, his face only revealing his frustration to Robin's well-trained eye.

"I don't know," Alice answered, only flicking glances at the Dark Knight. She seemed more interested in the tile floor.

"Describe it," he demanded, narrowing his eyes. Robin could tell Alice's vagueness was getting to him, and if she didn't open up soon her allegiances would be put into question even more.

"No, I mean I don't have any idea what it is!" Alice clarified quickly, her breath hitching at the intensified gaze. She raised her palms in surrender as best as she could manage. "I can't remember, honestly!"

"Well then what else _can_ you remember?" Robin asked, taking fleeting glanced at Wally's limp body. Batman no longer obstructed his view, and he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away for more than a few moments.

"I know where I hid it," Alice replied, sounding slightly more confident. "And I think I can take you there."

"What for?" Robin retorted, his gut spitting _spy._ "To give this monster what he – _erghh!"_ Robin grunted as a sharp pain lashed from his neck and into his spine, his muscles tightening as his hands hovered tensely over the incision. His fiddling with the bump on his neck had apparently gone too far, causing the area to flair in irritation.

He heard Alice gasp, but didn't have time to register her strange response before Batman was behind him, pushing away his hands and carefully peeling back his collar.

"Don't worry about it," Robin dismissed, knowing better than to waive away his mentor's hands. "I shouldn't have messed-"

"This is what you touched?" Batman interrupted, directing his question over Robin.

Alice nodded quickly, wheezing once again.

"MRI," Batman demanded. "Now."


	15. Migraines

Hello! It has clearly been a while since I last updated (sorry). My reasons are, unfortunately, the classics: finals + unusually difficult classes + other life responsibilities + weirdly difficult chapter. The last one, however, is even more true than normal; I swear, I must've done at least 4 complete re-writes (meaning everything -the setting, the plot development, the character reactions, the actual characters included, the timing- changed) and probably 8-10 additional re-workings (meaning I made substantive alterations but kept the basic concept). For example, at some point in its development, this chapter featured Superboy, Canary, Kaldur, M'gann, Leslie and Superman in major roles. Seeing how none of these characters were ultimately included, you can see how this chapter was somewhat fickle. Thankfully, I'm pretty content with the finished product (and hopefully everyone else is too).

Regardless, I'm sorry for the wait and I hope you enjoy the chapter (I think it's a little longer than normal, which hopefully mediates the damage of the delay). As a heads up, this story's winding up to a close now; should only take two or three more installments before its finally finished. I've even written a pretty decent outline of what the climax and resolution will look like, and I think everyone will be pretty pleased with the result (fingers crossed).

Lastly, a _huge_ thank you to everyone who took the time to review/comment. I really love the feedback, even when its neutral/negative. Admittedly, I don't usually reply unless there's a question to address (it feels awkward otherwise), but please don't think that they go unnoticed or unappreciated. Quite the opposite!

Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 14**

Alice sat on the edge of the examination-style table, perched like a bird on a power line. She practically vibrated with nervous energy, her throat –still freshly damaged from her rabid screaming less than a day ago- painfully dry from her most recent wheezing fit. Her fingers drummed on her pajama-clad knees compulsively, a soft but clear _tump tump tump,_ her aching body caught between sprinting for the nearest exit and passing out.

Another foreign bolt lashed through her mind, but she clenched her jaw and stayed quiet. The pain was harsh, but the attacks had happened enough times for her to know that it wouldn't last long. She was soon proven right; the blow quickly passed and she relaxed, taking a deep, stilling breath. Like clockwork, she began to parse through the lingering emotional residue. Anger and panic had been common at the start, but this time it was a terrible penetrating sorrow, the kind that makes your ribs ache and your chest rattle with every breath.

Alice chewed on the inside of her cheek, feeling queasy. The attacks were, of course, entirely involuntary. More than an active participant, it was as if she were a lightning rod caught amidst a raging storm. Pelted with foreign energy, neither she nor the pole were ever asked their opinion on the matter. No, life clearly didn't work that way –at least, not for her.

But as much as she wanted to believe that comforting tale, it didn't quite hold up to the harsh light of reality. After all, she knew of no lightning pole that, subsequent to its absorption, grasped that foreign energy with both hands just long enough to parse out the secrets hidden deep within its makeup. Or one that felt the same pleasure she experienced in the process, when she dove so deeply into the jolt's leftover emotions.

Here, again, was the perfect opportunity to spin a very convenient little lie. She could tell herself that she was just so concerned for Dick (which was true) and that this was the only way to know what he was feeling (which was perhaps even truer). But no, that was only part of the story. The ugly, gritty truth was that she couldn't bear to strangle the last meaningful connection she had in her life, unwanted and unreciprocated though it was. More than anything or any _one_ else, her dives into Dick's emotions were for herself. She wanted to do it, and she could, so she did.

Alice couldn't remember ever feeling so much like a common junkie; knowing the stuff was toxic, unsustainable, self-defeating and wrong, but just wanting that one last taste before she quit for good. Druggies take a hit to feel happy, but in the long run, whatever's in the pipe or line or needle ends up frying the happiness (and often the life) right out of their brains. Alice dove to get closer to Dick, but every indulgence only fueled the rot destroying their relationship.

She shook her head, trying to banish the thought –and her guilt- from her mind, but the attempt was futile. Try as she might to avoid it, at some point, she was going to have to fess up about her newest ability. To be fair, Alice had wanted to from the start, but everything had happened way too fast…and everyone was already way, way too angry with her. Plus, Dick had been horrified when he had learned about the absorption of his memories –she was not exactly excited to tell him that she now had a first row seat to his emotions as well.

But that wasn't all. Even more than the immediate unpleasantness such a disclosure would entail, Alice feared the broader consequences. Perhaps foolishly, she was still clinging to the hope that the friendship between her and Dick was salvageable, like a glowing ember waiting patiently to be rekindled. This latest ability was nothing less than a giant pail of crisp, smothering water hovering overhead; if their friendship wasn't already dead, telling him about the new emotional feed linking them together would certainly finish the job.

So she'd wait for an opportune time –you know, when the topic could come up _organically._ Soon enough it would happen! Dick would say something like, _'Jeez, sometimes I think no one could possibly understand what I'm feeling!'_ and then Alice would be like, _'Well, now that you mention it…'_

Alice snorted softly. Right.

Not wanting to dwell on the subject any more, the girl glanced around the Batcave, although her eyes never quite fell on any one object. She supposed she should've been awestruck by her surroundings –not everyone gets the opportunity to see the legendary hideout in person- but it all felt unsurprising to her. In a weird sort of way, Alice had already been here before. She had already seen the ceilings that were high enough to become obscured in their own shadow and the computer large enough to drive NASA techies to tears. Even the gleaming Batmobile, parked and waiting to race across the epic stone bridge, didn't catch her eye for more than a second.

The three of them –Batman, Robin and herself- had Zeta-tubed back to Gotham just an hour ago, popping out oh-so-conveniently in an inoperative phone booth on the other side of town. Batman had had a sleek car waiting to take them to the manor, driven by his civilian butler ( _Alfred Pennyworth_ , Dick's ever-fresh memories supplied).

Everyone had been particularly tight-lipped about the whole situation, but Alice managed to piece some information together from Dick's clipped answers. As it turned out, in order to actually get an MRI, Batman first needed to understand what exactly was put in Robin's body -as anything magnetic would be violently plucked out like the pit from an overly ripe cherry. And given that this thing was in Robin's _neck_ and not a fruit, educated guesses just weren't going to cut it.

One of the heroes also said something about checking out the object in her neck as well, but Alice didn't pay that much mind. After all, despite being somewhat strange, it was still organic -and its not like people can grow metal like fingernails. The object was probably some weird mix of cartilage and bone, but try convincing the big bad Bat of _that._

In any case, the fact remained that they had needed someone to examine at least one of them, and given that Manhunter and the Flash were focused on Wally and (although to a much lesser extent) M'gann, Batman had decided to outsource the job to Dr. Thompkins (another person Alice recalled from Dick's memories). Not that Alice had actually met her yet; Batman had promptly shepherded his ward upstairs upon arrival, where she was presumably waiting.

So here Alice sat. Tired, restless, and evermore in the dark the closer she got to the promise of answers. A walking paradox. A talking oxymoron.

Alice clasped her hands together, lacing the fingers, before a stinging jolt of pain forced them to fall loosely into her lap. She stared at her hands, somewhat surprised by the sudden flare of localized pain –a response she, after studying the appendages for a moment, realized was completely unwarranted.

As far as she could tell, everything below her forearm was a mess. Red, angry bands of raw skin, which adorned her wrists from her fight with Superboy, stung incessantly, as if she had attempted to remove a sunburn with sandpaper. Her actual hands were fairing no better, as she at some point (or multiple, more likely) had dug her nails a little too deep into the fleshy pads. She hunched to get a closer look, her own gaze pinning her palms in place. Those cuts looked angry as well. Maybe she should ask for some ointment or something?

She was deep in contemplation when her palms were suddenly eclipsed by a warm mug. Steam washed her face as her fingers reflexively curled around the cup.

Blinking the moisture out of her eyes, she lifted her gaze upward.

"We don't have too many visitors like you around here, if you don't mind my saying so," Mr. Pennyworth remarked smoothly, holding a tray of various tea sweeteners. "My name is Alfred Pennyworth, and I am the head butler here at Wayne Manor. It's a pleasure to officially meet you, young miss." He paused a moment, flicking a swift glace over her bare hands. Then he smiled, although Alice thought it seemed more remorseful than happy. "You'll forgive me if I'm unable to shake your hand."

"Oh," Alice responded awkwardly, still staring at the butler. After swallowing the impulse to point out that his hands were _gloved_ and thus protected from her abilities (which didn't seem like a promising avenue to take on their first meeting), she looked down at the mug again, nearly bewildered by the kind gesture. The vapor continued to ghost across her face, hugging her tight features. Realizing the time for a polite reply was quickly waning, she gave the man her most convincing smile. "Mr. Pennyworth, it's nice to meet you too. I'm Alice...um…" Her breath caught in her throat, her sentence dangling queasily in the air. "Well, just Alice actually. And yeah," she added half-heartedly, "I guess what I can do makes me pretty special."

Something glimmered across Alfred's steely eyes, but Alice couldn't tell exactly what. "Quite so, miss," the wiry man affirmed, returning her wide smile with his own polite one. He put the tray down beside her before stepping back. "Although," he continued, "if I am to be entirely honest, my intended meaning was in reference to your behavior."

Alice swallowed roughly, surprised by the comment, and cast her eyes to the side. Through Dick's memories, she familiar enough about Mr. Pennyworth's mannerisms to know that he didn't mean to insult her…yet she felt the familiar ache blossom in her chest nonetheless. It was just her lot in life to be different, often wrong and always out of place. She didn't need her memories to know how atypical her abilities made her, how they always separated her from the rest of the normal world. It was obvious in every interaction she found herself in, hanging over her like a cartoon storm cloud.

The warm vapor continued to curl under her chin, but the feeling no longer soothed her. "Sorry," Alice murmured, her voice scratchy with overuse and shame. "I'm not doing it on purpose."

The man's silver eyebrows climbed up his hairline. "My dear, I'm afraid you've misunderstood me!" Mr. Pennyworth assured soothingly, his gloved hand giving her shoulder a faint touch. "I was only commenting on your calm composure –most guests become quite excited when they find themselves in this cave, you know."

Alice met his eyes, this time a different type of embarrassment flooding her cheeks. _Yep,_ she reminded herself poignantly as she sucked on her teeth, _this is what embracing the life-as-an-angsty-freak-show angle will get you._

Electing to keep that little lesson to herself, she responded with a simple "Oh," her tongue feeling a couple sizes too big. "Yeah, that makes sense." She gestured around with one hand, although the movement seemed somewhat inadequate in comparison to the magnificence of her surroundings. "I mean, this is incredible – _obviously_ \- but to me it feels like I've already been here a thousand times before."

Seemingly satisfied with her reaction, Alfred retreated just a few steps. Although Alice hoped it was to reestablish typical personal boundaries, she still found herself framing the withdrawal as a reaction to her gestures. _He's afraid of you,_ a snide voice hissed in her ear. _Worse yet, he's_ repulsed _by you._ Setting her jaw, Alice tried her best to ignore the thought as Mr. Pennyworth continued. "A result of your intimacy with Master Richard, I presume?"

Knowing full well how unhinged the reaction would maker her seem, Alice couldn't stop a hysterical smile from crackling up to her lips. _Intimate…_ Well, she supposed it might've been a good descriptor at first, given how she and Dick had met and the eventual friendship that followed – but any trace of that amiable relationship had been obliterated within the last twenty-four hours. Regardless of Dick's feelings in the past, he now had to be physically restrained from punching her lights out.

So yeah, to call whatever was between them 'intimate' struck her as a little ironic at this point.

"Um yeah, if you want to call it that," Alice responded, hoping she successfully bottled her giddy giggles. She looked down into her tea once more and, hoping to calm herself, took a small sip. The taste of crisp apples and light roses greeted her, quickly followed by honey's golden sweetness. Nostalgia reverberated through her body, but departed just as quickly, leaving behind only a vague wisp of past happiness. Alice blinked, a soft smile relaxing the tight muscles around her lips and eyes.

She looked to the butler again, but was surprised to find him nearly gleaming with pride and amusement. "Well, if I'm not mistaken, it seems I am in the company of another tea enthusiast! I daresay neither Master Wayne nor Master Richard has ever reacted quite so to any brew I have offered."

Alice stared at him a little longer than perhaps was appropriate, noting his crisp blue eyes and warm smile, before turning her gaze down into the cup. "It reminded me of something," she revealed wistfully. "Something good, I think." She took another slow draft, enjoying the soothing warmth as the liquid rolled down her damaged throat.

"Mmm," Alfred replied knowingly. "Strange what memories dwell deep within us, isn't it, Miss Alice?"

Alice looked at him quizzically, unsure if the twinkle in the older man's eyes was real or imagined. "Yeah…" the girl responded, his words swirling impishly in her mind. The remark, mysterious and unprompted as it was, reverberated within her. She desperately wanted to believe he was right, that the tea had truly stirred real, honest-to-God memories from deep inside her unconscious –more importantly, that she _had_ memories available for the stirring. If she could actually remember who she was, where she was from, how she had managed her powers-

"Alice" looked down into the mug, watching the innocuous dregs float in a lazy circle, and dared to hope.

1-1-1

Dick stood in the doorway, staring dumbly into the luxurious, yet inexplicably empty study. Empty of _people,_ that is. It was absolutely filled with other items: books, portraits, documents and notes and double-stuffed cushions. But the only person inside was Bruce, or perhaps Bruce and half-a-Richard, depending on if you classify "doorway" as inside or not.

"Dr. Thompson's not here," he observed after a bloated moment. It was a stupid comment, clearly: the very definition of self-evident. Yet nothing more came to mind. Well, nothing _better,_ anyway.

To be fair, there _was_ supposed to be a doctor in here –that's what Batman had said back at the Cave. But evidently he was wrong since she wasn't here…so why couldn't his stupid sluggish brain just accept that? And where was the doctor, anyway?

 _No…_ Dick berated himself mentally. _That's not the right question._

The silence crept along as Dick's mental gears chugged in place, turning a moment into an eternity. It seemed like his mind was stuck in low, low, _low_ gear, the kind professional bicyclists probably use to win tournaments and everyone else only through the accidental slip of a sweaty thumb. The feeling was more unsettling than that though; he felt separated from his surroundings, as if he were actually miles away, watching everything play out via a video link that lagged just a few seconds behind. All in all, the two sensations left him feeling absolutely smothered with dysfunction, both inside his psyche and in connection to the outside world.

So clearly something was wrong. He just hoped it was from lack of sleep and not anything more… neck…related?

He swore, a quick mental _Jesus Christ!_ that forced him to temporarily pause his mind's chugging all together. Dick had had his share of less-than-stellar moments (more than he cared to admit anytime soon), but surely such a moronic thought as "neck-related" was out of the norm. And what did that mean, anyways?

Wait…what exactly had he been thinking about again?

Still drifting between tediously purposeful thought and involuntary mental tangents, Dick watched as Bruce slowly lowered himself into a grandiose leather chair. The man looked older than Dick remembered; it was as if every line on his face had deepened and every hair had revealed its silver root. After this long night, the cowl had finally come off –but as far as Dick could tell, it had taken all of Bruce Wayne's youth with it.

"That's because I didn't call her," the older man conceded, gesturing for Dick to take a similar seat across from him. It was a response for some comment ages old, something Dick was pretty sure he could remember if he could just focus for a second. Bruce smiled, but he didn't seem all that happy. "Why don't you come in?"

 _Right, the doctor!_ Dick stayed where he was, sudden remembrance and its complimentary confusion planting his feet into the chestnut wood flooring. "That's not what you said earlier."

"I know," Bruce acknowledged, his eyes carefully scanning the young man's face. The smile had disappeared, which Dick thought was probably good –one less guise to see past. "But this isn't a broken bone or some type of abrasion. Whatever that man did to you-" he paused, pinching his lips in…what? Anger? Concern? Fear?

Something heavy shifted in the young boy's gut. _Shouldn't I be able to tell?_

Bruce shook his head, drawing Dick back to the present. "It's on a whole other level."

"Oh," Dick replied, uncomfortably aware of the heat filling his cheeks. So maybe an urgent care doctor from Gotham's inner city wasn't the most qualified when it came to mysterious high-tech implants. But if not Dr. Thompson, who? And why lie in the first place?

"Will you come in, already?" Bruce urged again, his voice strained but not annoyed. "You look like you're about to fall over. When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?"

Dick considered that for a moment. His entire body still ached from his encounter with Mystery Man and his pal's turbo-charged tazer, and the stabbing in his neck reasserted itself with every adjustment he made. Combine the physical trauma with the emotional shock of discovering (and then _re_ -discovering) Wally-

Oh God.

 _Wally_.

"I'm not sure," Dick admitted lightly, forcing the thought ( _Wally, bleeding, still, barely breathing, not responding_ ) away as he slumped into the cushy armchair opposite Bruce. He needed to be careful; thinking any more about… _that_ …could easily send him over the edge –and this was so not the time for another freak out. Praying he could keep the tremor out of his voice, he continued. "I think I caught a couple hours before school yesterday."

Wait, was that yesterday? _No,_ Dick answered strenuously, _it couldn't have been…_ yesterday night had been cut short after the incident with Superboy. No, It must have been two days ago when he had spent most of the night studying for his history exam, using the intermittent breaks to mull over their enigmatic mystery girl. And, judging by the stoic grandfather clock to his right, it looked like both ventures had been a waste. First period was just about to end; in a few minutes, his teacher would be gathering up the tests –and marking his own with a big fat zero for his unexcused absence.

Guilt crashed into him almost immediately, wrapping its needle-like tendrils tightly around his ribcage. How could he be so selfish? Out of everything he could be focusing on, he was grumbling about missing a fucking _test?_ M'gann had been psychically assaulted, Superboy physically assaulted, and Wally- his best friend- he had been- been-

"Dick?" Bruce called softly. Startled, Dick met his mentor's gaze.

As he lifted his head, something cold dropped onto his lap, staining his jeans dark blue. Shocked, Dick brought his fingertips to his cheeks. Warm rivulets jumped to the new surface, sliding into his palm and off his wrists.

He lowered his hands, dumbfounded by the tiny pools of moisture still clinging to his skin.

"I'm sorry!" he blurted, frantically rubbing at his eyes with the sleeves of his hoodie. Tears continued to flow freely, saturating his red cuffs.

He felt Bruce's hand on his back, rubbing slow, small circles between his shoulder blades. After everything that had happened, of all the people that had been hurt, Bruce was comforting _him._ Heat raged in his cheeks as the acid in his gut curdled.

"I'm s-so sorry!" Dick apologized again, sputtering as sobs wracked his body. He couldn't believe what was happening. Why was he breaking down _now_? They didn't have time for this! Not while Wally was hurt and Darth Asshole was still out there and they were no closer to figuring out Mystery Girl's fucking deal and M'gann was probably still in shock and Kaldur was surly at the end of his rope because if he wasn't _another fucking Robin implosion would definitely do the trick!_ "I d-don't know what-"

"Shhh," Bruce pacified as Dick leaned into his mentor's touch. "I've got you."

l-l-l

Bruce felt sick. This is why he had kept Dick in the dark, why he had played that ridiculous game concerning Dr. Thompson. It was something he had noticed in the medbay, and now it was confirmed. His phone continued to vibrate, but Bruce didn't answer; it wasn't the caller that was important, but the call itself. The buzzing was the key, and it had brought with it the vindication Bruce had dreaded.

The most recent in a long running chain of disasters: there was a connection between Alice and Dick, one not created by their unfortunate meeting. No, this one was newer, tighter, stronger. The first had been a zip-line between minds, memories and thoughts and experiences as its cargo. Most importantly, it had been singular, definite, a one-time cord snapped after its one-time usage. Unidirectional as well.

But no longer. Now there existed a connection between hearts: a pipeline delivering emotions straight from his son's beating chest to that of a stranger (and possibly with traffic in both directions). But to say it was between hearts was imprecise.

Really, shouldn't he say between _necks?_

His phone, still tucked away in his civilian jeans, buzzed in relentless confirmation.

l-l-l

Alice cradled her head, gasping. Most of alien twinges had been manageable so far –sharp, yes, but nothing she couldn't blink away while still maintaining a polite smile. Even the worst few had only made her wince for an imperceptible moment. Until now.

Another wave of emotional chaos slammed into her, a new onslaught from the same source, like an aftershock following the earthquake. She trembled violently, struck blind, deaf and dumb by its intensity. There was no resisting it, no controlling it; she was simply being swallowed alive, swept away by Dick's frenzied current of despair and guilt and shame and confusion and and _and._

The emotions kept swinging in, battling her and each other for dominance. She couldn't take it. Her head was filling up with the stuff –guilt fear shame anguish fear shame guilt shame- pressing it down her throat and against her eyes and out her nose and mouth and ears and _oh god, please it hurts, please stop!_

Vaguely, she could feel Alfred hovering over her, hopefully out of concern but possibly out of investigative duty. She retched, once dry into the air and again, wet, into a suddenly supplied bin. Then the world was tilting, and she felt the cool metal of the table raise to meet her, and someone was flashing a light in her eyes, and someone was placing something wretched under her nose, and then…then nothing.


	16. Palpitations

**Hello everyone! I know it's been a while since I updated this, but in my defense I'm currently studying in Germany, so it's been a crazy couple months. Not ot mention this chapter was absolute HELL to write. I just couldn't figure out what to do with it! I must have rewritten it four or five times, and I'm still not exactly thrilled with the result. Regardless, I'm absolutely determined to finish this fic, so it's only a question of when.**

 **Also, my jaw literally dropped when I saw how many followers and favorites this piece has collected. When in the world did that happen? I honestly thought it was still in the thirty to forty range, so finding out that it has nearly 100 followers totally blew me out of the water. Thank you so much!**

 **If you have the time, please let me know what you think. It really helps me when I know people are still invested in this story.**

* * *

 **"** No."

Dick clutched his domino mask tighter, feeling the heavy material shift in his gloved fist. Pausing a moment to wrangle the spark of rage that threatened to engulf him, he exhaled slowly and tried again. "Bruce, listen, I-"

"Absolutely not, Dick," Bruce declared, quashing Dick's budding argument like a bothersome fly. He flicked his eyes at Dick's Adam's apple, but somehow his gaze went further, reaching all the way to his damaged nape. "You're still hurt, and he knows it. It's too dangerous."

The irritation flared again, loosening the young boy's lips. "But it barely hurts anymore!" Dick objected, trying to avoid both whining and grinding his teeth into a growl. Actually, his neck still throbbed like an angry swarm of bees had been sewed in as well, but spending a sleepless day in bed hadn't helped anything – all he had been able to think about was how soon darkness would descend and how fast he could put on his uniform once it was time. And it had _finally_ arrived, so there was no way in hell he wasn't going to be out there to make good use of it. "Alfred put some disinfectant stuff on it and applied a new bandage and everything. Right, Alfred?"

The old butler continued to attach Batman's cape to the shoulders of his uniform, but adjusted his position as he did so that his quirked eyebrow wouldn't be lost behind Bruce's back. "Just as I would to one of your skinned knees, Master Richard."

Dick ignored the obvious implication and cast an encouraging look at Bruce. "See? I'm all fixed up."

Wayne sighed heavily, his carefully steeled expression drooping into a softer, exhausted one. Dick held his breath. _Did I actually convinc-_

"Even if that were true," the billionaire began with a tone that said it definitely wasn't, "there are bigger factors in play here. Surely you've noticed you've been…" Bruce looked meaningfully at the boy, his head tilted empathetically, "out of sorts."

So this was about this morning. Yeah, okay, clearly what happened didn't foster _overwhelming_ confidence in his mental stability. But Bruce wasn't exactly the poster child for emotional health anyway; besides, he had had his freak out! Consider it therapeutic, really. Now he was ready to go _serve some justice to that masked creep._

But his determination didn't stop the heat from filling his cheeks at the thought of his most recent blubbering fit. He opened his mouth, unsure if he should be angry or ashamed, but was interrupted before he could say anything.

"You know what?" Alice blurted, awkwardly scooting off the medical examination table she had been using as a bench/bed since her arrival. She smiled nervously at the group, looked at the hot compress she had been applying for her headache (although it was now in her hand), and placed it on the table behind her with excessive care. "I think now would be a good time for me to go to the bathroom," she blithered as she shuffled backward in the direction of the stairs, apparently unwilling to fully turn away from the heroes. "You know, just because, um, it seems like I should…should…not be here…right now?" She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, flicking a few fleeting glances at Dick.

Dick bit the inside of his cheek, highly aware of the near animalistic rage that growled in his gut at the sight of her, and tried to school his expression. _Don't scowl._

"So I'm just gonna-"

Batman lifted his hand, halting her clumsy retreat in its infancy. "No. It's best if you're here as well." He gestured back toward the metal table. Dick successfully steeled his expression, although inside he felt queasy. He wasn't sure which he liked less: Alice having free-range in the manor or remaining in the cave to witness whatever embarrassing conversation Bruce had in mind.

Visibly torn, Alice remained where she was, her muscles winding tighter underneath her pasty skin. "Are you sure?" she squeaked, eyes dancing uncertainly between the hero and his protégé as if they were two hungry lions instead of renowned crime fighters. "Because I can just as easily skedaddle out of here and-"

Dick flashed a glance over to his mentor, positive the girl's twitchy antics were going to set him off ( _again_ ), but instead watched Bruce carefully shift away from his Batman persona. The man strode forward, coming within a comfortable distance of the table, and gestured softly at it. "Yes, I am. Please, Alice: sit." The request lacked Batman's iconic rumble.

 _Wow,_ Dick mused bitterly as he followed his mentor closer. _Mercy, huh?_

He watched as the girl, still spring-loaded, acquiesce, returning to lift herself back onto the examination table and pluck the thin, flat bottle from its resting place. Her entire body seemed to compress itself; her angular shoulders were hunched with her bony legs tucked anxiously beneath the table's underside, ankles curled together. Her hair drooped in front of her face, like curtains shielding her from view. Altogether, it made Dick feel impossibly large and out of place. It was as if a wrong move – no matter how slight - could shatter her, and despite everything that had happened, he didn't want that.

Suddenly, Alice straightened, the hair-curtain falling away. She was staring at Dick, unblinkingly, her eyes little white saucers with an island of green.

Whatever had previously come over him dissipated, a deep suspicion blossoming in its place. Her collar was on, so it was not as if she actually reacted to his thoughts. Still, the coincidence unsettled him. His jaw locked. " _What?_ "

Alice flinched, immediately averting her gaze. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

Now that was an interesting response. Dick glanced at Bruce – fruitless – before turning back to Alice. "For _what?"_ he seethed. He sucked a deep, halting breath through his nose, trying to dial his tone away from loathing and toward a more reasonable frustration. When that failed, he closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead forcefully with two fingers. _"_ Am I the only one completely in the dark here?"

l-l-l

If Alice didn't get out of here _right now_ , she was going to explode. Or scream. Or vomit. She wasn't exactly sure which, but it was going to be bad and it was going to be soon.

She had heard someone in her head – no, in her _mind._ Deep within her conscious, in the most native part of her psyche, it had spoke. A man's voice. Red hot with anger. It came riding in on a wave of static. It came blasting in on a river of molten lead.

It came with a demand: _bring me what is mine._

It came with a threat: _tell no one, or the archer dies._

Alice clutched the no-longer-hot water bottle, trying not to quiver. They had Artemis. And they were going to kill her. And it would be all her fault.

Her stomach heaved as she fought for breath. She had to keep it together. She was in the presence of the world's greatest detective and his right hand; any sign she was hiding something and it wouldn't take long for them to figure out what it was. And then Artemis would…would…

An image flashed in her mind's eye: Artemis, laughing teary-eyed while Wally blushed all the way to his ears. Another: Artemis, leaning over Wally to wearily eye his AP physics homework. Another: Artemis, fuming, chucking a handful of arrows with hearts replacing their flint heads at a whooping Wally.

The fleeting looks. The shared smiles. And Wally's parents were out of town. It was all so obvious. She should have been able to figure it out the moment she touched Dick's neck.

Swallowing, she hunched further, hoping her hair would hide the panic leaking from her face. She couldn't stay here, but she also couldn't go. The right way was blocked, and the detour was jammed. She was frozen not only to her seat but to her own inability, so when the alien jolt came, she leaned into it on reflex.

But what came next was anything but ordinary. The emotional remnants wrapped around her, as if she were a baby to swaddle. She basked in its warmth, its promise of understanding, its inherent security.

Surprised, Alice straightened, locking eyes with the source.

After a moment of echoed shock, Dick's eyes narrowed, and the blanket morphed into a biting vice. " _What?"_ he ground, his lips curled into the beginnings of a snarl.

Alice flinched as the vice cinched tighter, turning her gaze to the cave floor. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her lips numbed by the cold. Another explosion lashed through her head and the grip squeezed further.

"For _what?"_ he hissed. Then: "Am I the only one completely in the dark here?"

A new layer of fear frosted over Alice's body. This is why he had insisted on her presence. Dick still didn't understand, but Bruce did. And he was going to make her say it.

Wordlessly, she drew her knees up into her chest and wrapped her boney arms around them. Again, she saw Artemis, this time tossing Alice her old history book with a shrug and maybe a twinge of a gratified smile. Alice's stomach clenched, sloshing bile onto her tongue.

"Please, just leave me alone," she pleaded softly, her eyes gazing sharply into the distance. But that wasn't what she wanted to say. _Please don't make me stay here. Please don't make me kill her._

Slowly, the three of them slid from view – first Bruce, then Dick as he was pulled by the former, trailed by Alfred. Out of sight, Alice caught the traces of muffled conversation, followed by another bolt of emotion. She pushed it away, digging her nails into her shins enough to sting through the pajamas. Artemis snatching the remote away from Robin so they could watch _Survivor_.

The roar of the Batmobile filled the cave a few moments later, with its occupant leaving the three of them in his rearview mirror. Another lash of emotion. She cradled her head.

If Alice didn't leave now she would surely die. _She_ would die. She would _die_.

Someone was rubbing her back. She tensed at the unfamiliar touch, but quickly relaxed again, turning to see the source.

"Master Bruce has suggested that a nice shower might do you some good," Alfred confided softly, "and I can't say I disagree. How about it, Miss Alice?"

Her body nearly hummed with jittery energy, but she suppressed her enthusiasm. Alfred wasn't a detective like Robin or Batman, but he was still extremely observant; better to not set off any of his alarm bells either.

"Yes, I would appreciate that very much, Mr. Pennyworth," she replied.

l-l-l

Alice sighed, casting a mournful look at the steaming cascade of water pouring from the silver showerhead. It had only been two days since her last shower, but those two days were spent attacking Superboy (a sweaty endeavor, if there ever was one) and pain-vomiting…and all of it was done in the same set of pajamas. The result was an itchy, grimy sensation that enveloped her body like a sticky second skin. Not to mention that her hair was so full of grease she could probably milk it for the oil, if she had the mind to.

So yeah, the thought of slipping under the beating jet was far past pleasant and bordering on heavenly. She imagined immersing herself in the water, inhaling the soothing vapor and scalding away all of her body's aches. But, she realized as she raised her hand under the stream, the physical relief was only part of the allure; if she worked hard enough, Alice was sure could scrub away not only the dirt and grime but also her guilt and failures. At least in some small sense, she would exit the water restored or revived or some combination of both. Maybe even born anew, if she was lucky.

Or maybe she was putting too much faith into the magical powers of water and shampoo and soap.

Exhausted with this line of thought, Alice mentally shrugged. Unrealistic or not, it didn't really matter. At the end of the day, she didn't have the time to act on her wishes and find out. In fact, with Artimis' life hanging so precariously in the balance, she didn't even have enough time to justify the last few minutes spent collecting her thoughts. She needed to move, and quick.

So, with just the tiniest twinge of guilt chaffing at her gut, she sighed heavily and cupped her hands under the stream. With brisk, deft movements, she splashed the water onto her face, allowing it to whisk away some of the caked grime and exhaustion. Not nearly satisfied but unwilling to waste any more time, she pulled away from the jet to look pensively at the black bodysuit Alfred had magically provided.

If she was going to sneak out, blending in was a high priority. After all, it wouldn't be long until someone realized she wasn't in the shower and mounted a search/recapture mission…not to mention that she didn't love the idea of sticking out like a sore thumb while traversing Gotham alone and at night. Unfortunately, it was also somewhat important that she didn't absorb the life story of every Joe-Shmoe she happened to bump into (or the occasional drunkard that bumped into her). But without her typical clothes to wear overtop, her options were woefully limited: stay in her crusty red and green flannel PJs (which didn't exactly fulfill the goal of fitting in anyways) or embrace the Catwoman aesthetic and don the bodysuit.

After completing a brief Hail Mary scan of all the bathroom cabinets for stowed away clothes and unsurprisingly finding none, Alice settled on a compromise; she would wear the bodysuit under her pajama bottoms, a setup that would hopefully look like scrubby stretch pants and a black long-sleeved shirt to most passersby.

Studying the donned outfit in the sink mirror, she frowned at the how her hands and feet (which would be shoe-less) were covered by the same black stretchy fabric. Her pants also looked horribly out of place, with the fabric clearly made for sleep and the pattern plainly unsuitable for outside use. Moreover, her physical condition wasn't exactly helping: much to her irritation, her sickly pale skin, sunken eyes, grease-plastered hair, and frighteningly skeletal frame only intensified the bizarre aesthetic. She looked like Peter Pan's shadow meets what, a sleepwalking golfer? A cartoon hobo? Even that sounded painfully charitable.

But, she thought as something icy cold gripped her stomach, that wasn't the worst of it: this excursion was going to be undertaken braless and, unless the weather had taken an uncharacteristically abrupt turn for the better, the temperature would be _at best_ hovering over freezing.

So Alice was looking at a night spent on Gotham's streets alone, obviously weak, with pants that screamed _Look at me!_ and a top that –despite her somewhat modest chest- would leave nothing to the imagination.

She turned away from the mirror, steeling herself for the night ahead. It fell pitifully short of an ideal situation, but she was out of options and out of time, so it would have to do.

Using Dick's memories as a guide, she climbed into the lowered lid of the toilet so that she could easily access the window's locking mechanism. The manor was built on a gently sloping hill, and this bathroom in particular reflected that fact. It was mostly underground, but this window – placed at a seemingly peculiar height – was actually at ground-level, making it the perfect escape route.

After a bit of awkward jimmying, the old swivel lock creaked open. The window, which at some point had been painted shut, took a bit more work, but it eventually acquiesced as well. The cool night air sliced into her skin, but Alice ignored the ache of her shivering muscles. She was going to do this. She was going to save Artemis.

But there was one last obstacle she had to overcome before heading out into the unforgiving night. With no small amount of guilt and trepidation, she unclipped the collar from around her neck.

Instantly, the foreign thoughts inundated her brain, making her cringe in pain and self-reproach. As clear as any native conceptions, she heard Dick brooding in his room, the anger seeming split between herself and Batman. There were also the softer contemplations of Alfred, who – while apparently dusting some nearby hall – was simultaneously debating the best way of cheering the sulking boy and formulating his next steps regarding the increasingly fraying Batman.

Alice exhaled gratefully; both men were thoroughly occupied with their own thoughts, completely oblivious to her imminent escape and unlikely to change course anytime soon. She clicked the collar back in place, relaxing as the voices were immediately choked off.

Alice estimated that it would be at least fifteen minutes more before Alfred or Dick noticed anything amiss, with the possibility of longer. It was time to make her move.

Grabbing the outer frame of the window for support, she leveraged her body through and slid the window quietly shut behind her.

l-l-l

Dick bit his lip in a mixture of frustration and desperation, trying to extinguish the trill lodged in his chest. With one hand, he pressed the palm into his breast, providing a counter-pressure to a heart intent on beating straight through his skin. The other knotted itself into the satin bed sheets beneath him, acting as a tether of sorts; he felt like the room was spinning out from under him.

Despite his efforts, both the room and his heart only gained momentum. He gasped, a pained, spastic endeavor that briefly left him wondering if he had forgotten to breath at some point. God, what was happening? His lungs were on _fire_.

Vaguely, Dick guessed that what Bruce had said just before departing was finally sinking in, burrowing its way past the initial shock of discovery. He now knew that she could feel him, feel what was happening inside his head so forcefully that it visibly winded her. Dick could barely wrap his head around the concept at all, yet he knew it was disastrously simple. She was feeling what he was feeling. Bile burned the back of his throat. Lord, _they_ were feeling.

Dick moaned, a pitiful low croaking sound, as his lungs demanded more air than he could possibly supply. The universe was closing in on him, stripping away every protection until he was left alone, naked and raw. No matter how he struggled, no matter how hard he trained, the blocks always came tumbling down: his parents, Wally, his secrets, and now he wasn't even entitled to his own emotions! No, those had to be _shared_ , marveled at like they were part of some nightmarish art exhibition. Having his life story spilled in an instant had been bad enough, but at least then Alice had only been able to intrude on his past. Now she was a party to his present, one with a live feed on his deepest, most private experiences. This wasn't just a matter of vulnerability or exposure; no, this time he felt _violated_. It was as if he was being forced to share his entire existence with this girl, this threat, this mysterious, mysterious stranger.

Batman had told him – in that slow, eggshells-and-feathers kind of way Dick naturally bristled at– that his best chance at disrupting the link was to keep a level head. Emotional extremes – according to Bruce – were at least tightly linked to the girl's receptive abilities, if not the igniting spark.

But knowing he needed to calm down and actually doing so were two completely different things. The first was simple; Dick was, after all, a pretty smart lad with a good head for reason. The second, however, required a deep familiarity of calming techniques and the skill accordingly to rein in one's physical manifestations of stress and anxiety.

He pressed his face into the cool, silky pillow, but was unable to fully muffle the petrified whine that escaped his lips. He knew that at least some of this anxiety was a result of whatever the object in his neck was doing to him -or at least it was Batman's hypothesis that it was increasing the intensity of his emotional states. But knowing that didn't make the fear go away, and his awareness that such high levels of anxiety would likely be broadcast to Alice only escalated the situation.

Dick flipped onto his back, his struggle to breathe resulting in gasping, ragged breaths. It felt like someone was filling his chest up with cement, slowly imprisoning him from the inside out.

 _Breathe, Grayson!_ he ordered himself mentally. _For Christ's sake, you have to breathe!_

He sucked in another winded gasp, but this time he held it in, closing his eyes as he forced the air deep into his diaphragm. After a slow, painful count to seven, he released it in another eight. On the next breath he was able to inhale through his nose, a deliberate intake of air four seconds long. Once again he held in the captured oxygen until he finished his steady count to seven. He continued like that for an unknowable amount of time, repeating the same calming sequence Bruce had taught him so long ago.

 _In, two three four-_

 _hold, two three four five six seven-_

 _out, two three four five six seven eight._

No longer starved of oxygen, Dick was finally able to relax his clenched muscles and force his mind into a reboot of sorts. He could hear the shower running from the guest bathroom downstairs, reminding him once more of Alice's presence in his home. He took another deep breath, determined to maintain this freshly obtained control. From what Batman had gathered after speaking with Red Tornado, it didn't seem as though Alice could actually read his thoughts the way she had during their earliest days together. Instead, she was only able to pick up what Batman described as "impressions" of his emotions. It was as if he was drawing pictures in the sand – Alice could only see the messy sketches for a moment before they were whisked away by the tide and lost forever.

It wasn't much of a silver lining, but at this point Dick would take what he could get in order to keep the panic at bay. His thoughts –as well as the more mild emotions- were his own. He could work with that.

He sat up, winching slightly as the blood rushed out of his head, and gazed out of his bedroom window. The Batmobile was long gone by now, but he still found himself watching the winding forest street, as if the iconic vehicle would reappear through willpower alone.

It's not that Dick couldn't see why Batman had insisted on hunting down Wally's attacker on his own; whoever this guy was, he deserved an epic beating and, even if no one ever found out about his most recent fit, Dick's eyes were still a little puffy from his earlier breakdown this morning. So okay, emotional stability was not exactly a given at this point, at least from Bruce's perspective. And it's not like he really had any proof to the contrary.

Hence the timeout.

But even though his latest emotional episode was only minutes earlier, Dick still burned at the thought of being sidelined. Regardless of how it looked, he could feel how much clearer his mind had become; at last his brain had moved beyond overwhelmed flailing and into fixit mode. And a big part of fixing this mess was finding Darth Asshole and relieving him of any information he had concerning Alice, Robin's implant, or Wally's civilian identity, preferably through repeatedly introducing his face to Robin's fist.

But he couldn't do any of that from his bedroom or dressed in his dorky polka-dotted PJs.

So Dick paced, doing his best to ignore the hidden Robin suit he had assured Bruce and Alfred on multiple occasions most certainly did not exist. After all, this wasn't the time to go AWOL. Firstly, another mistake might finally prompt Kaldur to reassess the seriousness of his previously fake firing, particularly if Dick disobeyed orders (again) in the process. And then there was still the matter of Batman himself, who would likely impose Robin-sanctions much more damaging to his ultimate goal than sitting out this single night. Plus, he wasn't sure how much hero-time he could physically withstand right now and his little loose-floorboard-compartment-under-the-bed trick wouldn't fool Alfred twice; it would be stupid to squander his ace in that particular hole on an objectively futile endeavor.

Not to mention, as much as Dick hated to admit it, a little more rest would probably do both his body and mind some good. The last day or so had been long (to say the least), with the emotional crotch-shots coming one after the other. And although the most recent development was clearly a world apart from the other shit life had thrown at him, it wasn't as if the last few months had been all lemon drops and mellow vibes. In fact, he had been nearly pushed to his breaking point on a number of occasions well before Wally was even hurt, although it was seeing his best friend so injured that had finally done it.

If he had learned anything these past four years, it was that there was a time to be Robin and a time to be Dick. Batman was on the case, and Flash would likely jump in soon. The two of them would probably enlist some other League members as well, assuming they didn't find the guy before then. And even without the rest of the League, there was no way Kaldur, Artemis and Superboy weren't going to help (permission be damned). Hell, even M'gann might be well enough to join in the hunt at this point. So maybe, just this once, he could trust that the whole weight of the world was indeed not on his shoulders and instead allow himself some time to heal more or less burden-free. Maybe tonight he could just be Dick and everyone else could be the hero.

So it was settled. Dick would just stay here like a good little ward while the grownups sorted the crap from the caviar.

Dick sunk into the foot of his bed, the luxury silk bedding releasing a typically pleasant _whish_ as he did.

And then he saw her.

* * *

 **please R &R :)**


End file.
